


30 Songs I Totally Remixed

by mobius_stripper



Series: Hit Shuffle Until Something Good Comes On [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection, even more AUs!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobius_stripper/pseuds/mobius_stripper
Summary: 30 more Steve x Darcy one-shots in mystery flavored Starburst.  Which btw, is the perfect meta for what's happening here.  Be prepared for an apundance of wordplay.7 - cop!Steve x badgirl(kinda)!Darcy (explicit content)8 - regular!Steve x sweettooth!Darcy (in honor of Valentine's Day)9 - neighbor!Steve x girlnextdoor!Darcy10 - avenging!Steve x babystark!Darcy11 - bakery!Steve x happythoughts!Darcy12 - CaptainAmerica!Steve x timeslip!Darcy13 - growingup!Steve x growingcloser!Darcy14 - blinddate!Steve x perfectmatch!Darcy15 - fakeboyfriend!Steve x kindasortaspy!Darcy16 - meals'n'feels!Steve x succubus!Darcy (explicit content)17 - onapedestal!Steve x smitten!Darcy18 - normal!Steve x catlady!Darcy19 - EndGame!Steve x soulspirit!Darcy20 - 5timesshemakes!Stevesmile + 1timehemakes!Darcycry21 - behindthescenes!Steve x betweenthesheets!Darcy (explicit content)
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Series: Hit Shuffle Until Something Good Comes On [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605886
Comments: 123
Kudos: 372





	1. You Get Me - Michelle Branch

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a good a writer in that I only write when I have something to work with and something to complain about. In this case, you can probably extrapolate my feelings on Endgame.
> 
> Writing-bug finally bit me again, and nothing made me quite as happy as coming up with and writing out the original one-shot collection, so even if it ain't broke, I'mma fix it anyway.

Darcy is not an awful student. And she will graduate without taking out student loans. Or so she tells herself. Art History is just a necessary evil because she picked a liberal arts college as polar opposite from ‘law school’ as possible. 

It’s really not her fault ‘chiaroscuro’ is a funny fucking word. When she reads it on paper, her brain lags and she flashes back to the Chia-pet cat that she killed in 5th grade. When literally anyone says it out loud, it sounds like an off-brand Harry Potter spell and she has to reboot her brain because people are having a serious, grade-affecting conversation here.

Also doesn’t help that the TA looks like he walked off a pedestal from the classical sculpture part of the textbook. The only thing she can figure is that his stipend is too small to let him buy shirts that fit properly. Or that the college is going the unethical route of hoping students are too distracted to pass this class so they can double-dip. She would dip  _ so _ many things in Steve Rogers if she could.

It’s not even a crush, it’s more like a quiet acceptance that outside of Harry/Draco and maybe some of the  _ really _ well-written straight smut fics, nothing and no one gets her as wet as Steve. For sure the painted nudes in the slide deck don’t do anything for her. Her tits are objectively nicer anyway. Not that Steve would know. She’s never going to sack up and say something, much less show him. She doesn’t even have the balls to go to Steve’s office hours alone. She doesn’t know the first thing about him.

Except.

Except it’s after finals now and it is completely by accident that she learns a  _ bunch  _ of things about Steve.

  1. He’s not going to be a TA next semester
  2. This upsets him because he was counting on the income to you know, eat and pay rent
  3. When Steve is upset, he says ‘fuck’ under his breath with a devastatingly intense vehemence that
  4. Makes Darcy trip because her brain just _can’t even_ and her flailing knocks Steve’s sketchbooks right out of his arms on her way down



“Are you okay?” he asks, because 5. Steve Rogers is a gentleman.

“I’m so sorry, my fault. I’m fine, how are you?” Darcy asks from the floor, because she’s not sure she can handle being within the sphere of influence that is Steve’s whole chest area.

“Not ‘fine’, but I’m not hurt, thanks.” 

Steve offers her a hand up, and she swears she can feel sparks. Which must have shorted out her brain entirely because instead of saying something normal and continuing on her way to demand to know why she only got a 74 on her Art History final, Darcy looks back down at the scattered papers and says, “Wow, you’re ARightRoughRogering! You’re one of the only reasons I even log into DA any more.” 

And casually proceeds to tidy up the mess at his feet, starting with the sketch she recognizes was posted last night of Mickey Mouse dicking down Luke Skywalker in a poignant and pointed protest of  _ The Last Jedi _ .

Steve doesn’t do anything except turn cadmium red before going titanium white.

Somehow they end up in the campus coffee shop. The exact details of walking over, ordering and finding a table are kind of fuzzy, but she’s  _ pretty  _ sure Steve won’t poison her latte to keep her silent about his nefariously NSFW online alter-ego.

Poisoning her for being a casual Reylo shipper might still be on the table though.

Apparently, while he will draw pretty much anything for cash, enough people are drawing big strong Sith edgelords who need to be saved (sexually) for free that he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty for tips. 

It’s not her OTP, but enough of her favorite writers like it that it’s kind of grown on her too. Helps that they write super steamy smut redirecting Kylo Ren’s anger management problems into something much more productive. This probably is not a good enough argument to convince Steve. Even so, they manage to talk enough random shit that the barista has to make multiple trips to remind them they are closing. 

Darcy bit down on Kate Winslet impressions about six times over the course of her first coffee. Then she got distracted because she actually has opinions about Superman and Lois Lane versus Wonder Woman. She had him say ‘chiaroscuro’ and it’s still a funny fucking word, but with a sprinkle of thigh-clenching this time. She  _ may  _ have made her chair squeak when he said ‘stippling’. And then again when she finds out that his DA handle came from his ex-girlfriend. She’s read enough Harry Potter fanfiction to recognize any and all British slang (that has to do with fucking), so putting two and two together… 

Okay, maybe  _ now _ it’s a crush.

She still doesn’t sack up and say anything to him. She just kind of quietly plugs his commision link to all her fandom buddies so that, for her own sake, Steve doesn’t starve and lose all that muscle definition.

She gets an email from Steve’s campus account about 27 days after she crashed into him (but who’s counting?). It starts with apologizing if this is weird, especially since he had to go through the Art History class register to get her info.

Darcy stops reading for a minute there while she processes the convergence of him remembering her name, knowing she was in that class at all and wanting to reach out to her enough to bother.

Steve is writing to let her know that he has a part time job off-campus now, so he hasn’t been available or around until now, but he really did enjoy talking with her, so if this whole thing hasn’t put her off, he’d love to do coffee with her again.

She doesn’t even care how it looks, she replies with an enthusiastic ‘yes pls’ within five minutes of getting the email.

It’s another 36 days after that (again, no one is counting) before he invites her back to his place to look at his etchings. Once she gets him out of his too-tight shirt, she immediately dips her fingers into the lines of his six-pack with a happy whimper.

It turns out Steve Rogers is not a gentleman all of the time.

Sometimes, he can be downright… deviant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have minimal opinions about Star Wars in general. I only care how hot is the smut. And also that no one ever forgets the Holiday Special. If I have to have Chewie's creeper dad in my memory banks, so does everyone else.
> 
> And yes, I think Steve totally makes shocking social commentary protest art to spread a message and effect change.


	2. Under The Milky Way - The Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favorite post-Battle-of-Manhattan roadtrip fic. Also, Steve getting a vague look at a European map and knowing countries on it is a relevant plot-driven skillset.

SHIELD is not willing or able to take their calls, and you know, alien attacks tend to ground all commercial flights. So it’s about 5 days before they make it stateside but at least Customs didn’t give them any shit about all the akvavit and reindeer sausage Darcy brought back. 

Erik is, understandably a little… off after his alien encounter, but he is still sad (in that fatherly way of his that is only about your feelings of frustration and not because he actually approves of you dating the god of thunder) that Jane didn’t make it back in time to catch Thor before he disappeared off-planet. Then he offers to make her a boilermaker with the akvavit.

Jane is drafting an impassioned ‘I quit!’ speech on a napkin she found in her pocket until Darcy reminds her that SHIELD still has all her research in New Mexico, and maybe she should save the dramatics until after they get her shit back. 

So yeah, they go to New Mexico, land of sand and scrub and possibly an outstanding warrant. Darcy maybe uses her hacking powers for evil to just check and see if her name is still in the system. It is not. Thanks, Coulson. She’s a bit disappointed, if only because, on the off chance shit goes down while they enter and then break out of a government facility, they’re going to have to make a new record for her and ain’t no one got time for paperwork.

* * *

Darcy is hanging out in the only cafe with free wifi, keeping an eye on the security footage inside the facility just to get an idea of how many jack-booted thugs they will have to skirt around when they liberate Jane’s equipment (again). She hears the motorcycle long before she sees it. But oh, when she  _ sees  _ it.

She does remember to lock her laptop because Mary-Jo should have as much plausible deniability as possible should the fuzz come by. She only needs a minute or two to  _ fully  _ experience the Harley as it makes the turn into the parking lot. She can feel her back teeth vibrate until the engine cuts. She’s still sighing over the bike when the rider walks in. 

There is a vibe. A prickly,  _ someone is staring _ vibe.

So she turns to stare back. He definitely flinches a tiny little bit. He’s built like an Asgardian, but he doesn’t have the same air of superiority (a snobbish but endearing entitlement) that Thor had. She double checks her internal list. She hasn’t dated or debauched this guy, doesn’t think she tasered him at any point, and she would have remembered motorbike related shenanigans, tequila or not. 

Simply because it will drive her nuts if she’s supposed to recognize this guy and can’t, she nods him to the empty seat across from her.

He only waits a couple seconds before taking it.

“Should I know you?” she asks bluntly.

Motorcycle dude shakes his head.

“But you know me somehow?”

“I um. I’m Steve. You’re wearing the same hat as-  _ your file _ ” he whispers, “and it was just, real surprising since I… wasn’t expecting…” Steve trails off like somehow she will understand everything he’s not saying. “I just wanted to go to the Grand Canyon!”

“What file?”

Steve glances at Mary-Jo who is nowhere close enough to hear anything and mumbles something. Darcy definitely picks out the word ‘Coulson’ and shoots to her feet. 

“Coulson showed you my file?” she hisses. “Well, you can tell Agent iPod Thief that he-”

Steve looks vaguely sick and Darcy, with an empathy/understanding that only occasionally has good timing, realizes she shouldn’t continue down that road. 

Steve manfully moves the conversation in another direction. “He was showing your file to,” again his voice drops to barely audible, “ _ Thor _ , yours and the other girl. I just happened to see it, and I… retain a lot of information,” he finishes lamely.

“And you weren’t expecting to see said information in Bumfuck, New Mexico. Okay.” Darcy pushes her basket of fries over to Steve while she chews on this. “Fair enough. I’m Darcy. The other girl is Jane. You’re headed to the Grand Canyon, you say?”

Steve nods and carefully dips a fry in ketchup.

“You in a rush? If not, maybe you can plead on Thor’s behalf, because I think Jane will declare inter-planetary war the second she gets that wormhole working. I can bribe you with homemade dinner.”

Steve looks mildly uncomfortable but resolute. “Yeah sure, least I can do for Thor’s girl. He really did need to leave.”

There is another vibe. An inhale that’s a beat too long on the exhale. It’s got kind of a Tarantino-esque flavor to it. If Steve’s super power is information retention, then Darcy’s is vibes. Vibes that let her see through clouds and pick up on patterns and just generally coast through life. Like a jellyfish.

Steve might have a vibe-sense too, or he’s stiffened up like that because he’s afraid the 100-pound astrophysicist is gonna kick his ass. 

“Everybody on the ground!”

The two masked guys come out from the kitchen. Darcy lowers herself slowly, hiding her messenger bag with her body as she goes down. 

She’s not even halfway to her knees yet when Steve does some David Copperfield shit with the chair he was sitting on. Literally one second the chair is under Steve, and the next, it’s happily whizzing through the air and crash-landing in Mook #1’s face. Then Steve flings  _ himself _ across the room and yeah. Wow. Shit luck for Mook #2.

Darcy scoots forward and hits #1 with the taser just so she can say she participated.

* * *

Jane is less than impressed with the big ol’ blonde Darcy brings back. Jury’s out on whether it’s because she didn’t hit  _ him _ with the van or because Jane is projecting her annoyance onto Steve. Steve does his best to sell her on the importance of removing the alien invader from the planet in a timely fashion. Darcy chimes in to remind her that the first time Loki threw down, it was  _ one _ knock-off Iron Man and booting him off their world so the experts can ask him where in the fuck he got spacewhales sounds pretty time-sensitive to  _ her _ . 

Jane makes angry scientist noises and uses the last of Darcy’s almond milk in her cereal, ignoring the traitor-pot-pie on the table. Steve has no such qualms which is always gratifying, having something you made appreciated. 

Because Steve seems like a decent guy and doing a road trip to the Grand Canyon shouldn’t mean suffering through Jane’s moods (and also, he fought aliens), Darcy offers to run a load for him in their washer dryer. She sticks him on the huge wooden lawn chair they rescued from the curb with the chicken pot-pie because he literally will not fit in the laundry corner. He’s a bit antsy because oh no, a girl is touching his underwear, but by the time she comes back outside he’s absorbed in the desert sunset. Which soon turns into the crisp clear evening sky.

Darcy stares at the stars like she does every night. Has done every night since Thor. They don’t do anything but twinkle.

“God, look at it. It’s crazy that we’re not alone in space. But it’s also crazy that we’re not alone here, like, because we choose not to be. Kind of a voluntary quantum entanglement.”

Steve actually seems like he’s comprehending what she’s getting at, even though she’s probably using Science! metaphors wrong.

“You seem like you can handle anything the Grand Canyon might throw at you, but just in case, I’ll give you my number and some snacks for the road. If you need bailing out or something.”

“Maybe or something.” Steve smiles as he passes her his phone.


	3. Burn Slow - Jaira Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The serum does have an effect on sexual function. This time it’s exactly what you think. 
> 
> serum!Steve x sexedup!Darcy (explicit content)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this feeling pushes me to the max  
> Feel it come inside my lungs  
> All in, all in  
> Wanna take in all your love  
> \- Burn Slow

They _were_ on their sixth date two minutes ago. Where Steve and Darcy try basic life skills and cooking along with a video. Something sizzles when she reaches over him to sneak a taste of the sauce he is holding. 

It’s like the stars align and suddenly Steve is turning off all the stoves and Darcy is pulling at the strings of the ‘ _shiitake happens’_ apron she made him wear. It’s got to be a record how fast Steve shucks her out of her jeans, even while he herds her out of the kitchen, their lips locked together.

She pushes him off while she works on her blouse, but as has been the case since the first moment she saw him, she can’t go more than 30 seconds without checking him out. He’s looking back at her with a hunger that has nothing to do with the broken sauce they abandoned. 

“I want your dick in me.” It escapes before it can be caught by the brain-mouth filter, but it’s the truth. Just saying the words sends a rush of warmth into her underwear. Steve’s pupils visibly dilate and then her panties are trailing from her ankles and he’s walking her naked body into his room as he works a finger into her pussy. And a second. The squelch is obscenely loud as he pulls them out.

“I know I’m supposed to do more to... but I don’t think I can wait,” he rasps, desperately working at the button of his slacks. 

“Can I at least get your shirt off?” she bargains hopefully. Steve obligingly rips it from his neck one-handed and it’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen. For all of ten seconds. Then Steve is fully naked and... well. “You’re _gorgeous_.”

Steve’s cock slides home with a slick jolt that runs all the way up her spine.

“You’re perfect. I could do this all day,” he groans, hands clenching around her waist as he lowers her onto his bed.

“Science demands that we test your hypothesis. Repeatedly.” Darcy gasps and then the last of her neurons give up the fight and succumb to dopamine. She bites into his shoulder because she doesn’t want to say anything else stupid or awkward or embarassing. The plan is for Steve to want sex with her again, after all.

She is so ridiculously wet, her pussy greedily swallows the whole length of him every time he thrusts into her. She wishes she could do something more than just _take_ it, but she really can’t focus on anything else because he’s just so big and hard and _present_. She can feel his hands drifting over her sides, her breasts, her neck, softly brushing her hair away, gently removing her glasses to place them on the nightstand, the way he shifts his legs and elbows trying to find a good position that doesn’t put too much weight on her. Part of her brain fully appreciates how considerate he is, and another part purrs in enjoyment over the sparkling sensations teasing her nipple but the annoyingly-competitive part wants to reduce him to the same incoherent mess she is. That part manages to gather enough control over her deliciously wrecked insides to squeeze her pelvic muscles. Steve’s hips stutter and an utterly filthy animal sound claws its way out of his throat.

So she does it again. In case he has any doubts about her intentions, she wriggles up so she can breathily demand, “Steve, I need you to fuck me into the mattress,” right in his ear.

There’s a second’s pause while he processes this, then he adjusts his hold on her and seriously gets to work fulfilling her request (and her cunt). 

It feels like forever and barely any time at all before an orgasm tears through her. She can feel herself spasming around Steve’s dick and he slows down to look at her face and squirming body to confirm what just happened. But he doesn’t stop thrusting. She can see his mouth moving, but blood is rushing in her head and she is making a _lot_ of ungodly noises anyway, so she’s just going to assume he’s saying nice things to her.

* * *

She flashes back to date #3 where Steve earnestly explained as much as he could about the effects the serum and while he’s aware of the connotations of the ‘third date’ (and was very much looking forward to taking her to bed), he needed her to go in fully informed and consenting.

He’s not sure how long he would last exactly, but super-stamina was not a myth and he um… broke all the rubbers he practiced with. It’s adorable how red he was when he admitted this, so she scooted under his arm until it was draped across her shoulders. She told him she’d need to book an appointment with medical to get an implant but she was also absolutely looking forward to taking him to bed. 

She still had awful memories of the UTI she got her first time because the condom lost its lube after three minutes of uncoordinated pumping. And maybe it was the super-stamina comment, maybe it was just Steve being _Steve_ , but she couldn’t stop wondering how it would feel raw. How _he_ would feel.

She told him, blushingly, that _it_ was in on the fourth date, but almost like they were trying to prove to each other they weren’t in it just for the sex, they stopped at a chaste goodnight kiss the next two times. 

* * *

She’s completely over that bullshit right now.

“Steeeve,” she wails as his head grazes over her g-spot. “Don’t stop. Please. I wanna feel you come in me. Oh _fuck_ ,” she chokes on the last word as the climax claims her.

He picks up the pace, a frenzied rhythm that reaches further into her than before and finally erupts in hot swells of thick passion. She can feel each spurt tickling her depths, feels each plunge forcing a flood onto the sheets, and even though she is _brimming_ with his spend, he is still hard, still pulsing, still pouring his cum into her… She blindly reaches up to kiss him as yet another orgasm ripples within her.

He withdraws from her slowly once she stops twitching, entranced by the overflow of _them_ that spills out around his softening cock. She kind of wishes he hadn’t taken her glasses so she could see it too. His fingers trace up her slit, over the shadow of hair, the curve of her belly. It makes her wriggle and she feels liquid pooling under her butt. Steve’s eyes widen and he presses more firmly, rewarded with a gush of white warmth. She whimpers with pleasure when he flattens his whole hand over her pudge and experimentally pushes down, causing a waterfall to cascade from her folds. _This_ time she hears him reverently saying her name.

He eventually rolls over and rearranges their mess of limbs so they are looking at each other, her head pillowed by his arm, matching soppy smiles on both their faces. 

“So that was awesome,” she chirps, fluffing her boobs because sweat is making them stick in uncomfortable ways. “When can we do it again?”

Steve closes his eyes with what looks like a small prayer (or maybe a bad word) forming on his lips. 

_Something_ twitches by her knee, making her laugh happily. “You weren’t lying about doing this all day, were you?”

“Captain America doesn’t lie.”


	4. My Freeze Ray - Neil Patrick Harris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superhero!Steve x henchwench!Darcy (different Whedon remix this time. Because the status =/= quo)
> 
> I love me my Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

“I am not _dying_ for six credits!”

Jane puts her hands on her hips. “You’re not going to die, you big baby. Your application said you output 6 kilovolts. This is nothing.”

“Yeah, output. If I were any kind of invulnerable, you think I’d be a _henchwench_ intern?” Darcy debates outputting a few kilovolts right now and leaving Jane drooling on the carpet while she watches _Supernanny_ , but she needs this job. And the lair is in the desert (it’s actually not a desert, Jane keeps reminding her), 30 minutes from the edge of LA, so it’s kind of impossible to get medical assistance out here.

Jane makes a noise of disgust, but at least she starts working on the exposed wires.

“So have you got a name?”

“You mean like an evil name? No, not yet. All the suggestions I get are for like ‘The Shocker’ and I am _real_ tired of that joke.”

Jane nods understandingly. “It’s good to be professional about it. I don’t think I’d get published in nearly as many journals otherwise.”

Dr. Cataclysm, as Jane is also known, is a pretty serious name even though she’s not in the Evil League of Evil. It’s on her ResearchGate profile, with the list of her PhDs (astrophysics, mechanical engineering, computational science, horribleness). She may not give a shit about things like ethics committees and government grants, but at least her results are sound and the journal reviewers all just collectively ignore the ‘conflict of interests’ section of her manuscript submissions.

“Do you have anything else for the hamper? Groceries I need to pick up?”

Jane waves her away, so Darcy plugs her ipod into the cassette adapter and putters off to the laundromat. She still can’t believe Jane can build a frickin’ freeze-ray but can’t fix her goddamn washing machine. But then, Jane’s actual superpower is eating nothing but cereal and poptarts and somehow being alive and skinny, so yeah.

She hogs one of the benches and watches the news while she waits for a washer to empty. Looks like Iron Man and Captain America had an epic showdown in a shawarma joint yesterday. She would never hench for that guy. Iron Man looks too high maintenance to be worth any paycheck. 

“Do you need a washing machine?” 

She looks up (and up and up) at the cute guy she has seen here every week. Who is now addressing her.

“I’m about to move to the dryer, so if you…”

“Yes please!” 

He’s a gentleman too, because he reaches down to help with her basket just as she does. The _spark_ when their hands touch is totally not deliberate (because you know, drooling on the floor). 

She apologizes anyway. “Sorry.” 

“Hazard of the coin wash.” He smiles, and she wonders if _this_ is what it feels like when she electrifries a victim. He guides her to where a basket labelled STEVE is waiting half-full of blue and grey and black.

Darcy has a sudden wish for Jane to spill ketchup on herself more often.

* * *

It’s for the greater good Jane never went into teaching. She’s been lecturing the whole way from the service entrance where Darcy snuck in. _So_ glad they drove separately.

“Remember-”

“Don’t bounce, jostle or in any way surprise the wonderflonium. I got it.” 

“Nice dress, Foster. Loved the paper on wormholes. How soon can I order my portal gun? Who’s this?” Tony Stark is here. Villainy with Jane is much more exciting than Darcy would have thought.

“None of your business, _Mister_ Stark.”

“You really need to let the ‘doctor’ thing go. Plenty of successful people drop out without…”

“You know folks, the party is upstairs.” Captain America is leaning on the door marked ‘Restricted Access’.

The testosterone is in the air becomes palpable. 

Iron Man’s armor whirs to life. Captain America tackles him, allowing Jane and Darcy to duck through the door. 

“Do you think Iron Man’s after the same thing we are?”

“Tch,” Jane scoffs. “Stark literally put a video of how to make badassium on youtube. It just requires a particle accelerator and I don’t have the time or space to put one of those in the lair. I also hate that I have to say ‘badassium’ because of him. He’s only here because he patented the damn thing.”

“Well, he is the poster child for proving crime does pay.”

They’re five miles into the not-desert when Captain America catches up. Jane, in a maneuver that proves why she doesn’t need the ELE to be scary, plows her van into his front wheel and then fires the freeze-ray out the window. Her foot never leaves the gas pedal.

Darcy, trailing the van, watches the bike spin out. Captain America falls in literal slow motion, the forcefield or whatever a flickering blue aura around him. She makes a split second decision to stop the car. 

It’s supposed to wear off after a couple hours, but Darcy is really unclear on the whole physics of stopping time for a fixed object. 

She is physically incapable of moving him by herself, Jane will definitely fail her if she tries to call her back to help (possibly even re-visit her stance on murder), and Darcy doesn’t have anyone else she could ask without compromising her entire internship. Good thing Jane outfitted her car with emergency supplies, because vehicles crapping out when they get too close to the lair is a known thing and not-desert nights are still cold.

She digs up the mylar blanket, a few protein bars, a water bottle and her Culver hoodie. It got washed sometime within the last month and she uses the nice fabric softener. Should be fine.

Hoodie gets bunched up and placed under his head like a pillow before she tucks the blanket around him. The mask looks very uncomfortable, but she’s not about to touch _that_. She decides to stow the food and water inside the blanket so they don’t get lost.

Satisfied that she has prevented negligent homicide from being added to both of their CVs, she drives back to Jane. Who didn’t even notice her missing because she was too excited about her new toy. Mad scientists are adorkable.

* * *

Steve walks into the laundromat just as she is throwing things into the dryer. Darcy can’t stop the dopey smile spreading across her mouth. If anyone asks, it is because she’s listening to showtunes.

She casually sits on the same bench as before, and that same kind of heart attack happens again when Steve joins her after feeding quarters to his machine.

“Hey, laundry buddy.”

“Hi. You beat me here today. I’m Steve, by the way.” He sounds much more stiff than he was probably aiming for. 

“Darcy. Nice to meet you. Again.”

Steve swallows. “Yeah. Again.”

She’s got an upper dryer, so she lets her shirt ride up a bit as she stretches to get things out of the drum. Steve, who is tall and gallant, reaches in to help her. She might be imagining things, but she _thinks_ he leans down a little to sniff her.

“Would you mind waiting until my load is done?” he asks softly. “I can buy you a coffee or something.”

Darcy has never wanted a man’s load more in her life. “Sure, let me just fold my stuff.”

They chat for an hour as his clothes dry. Most of the time it’s easy and comfortable, except for when they both kind of skirt around their jobs. When his buzzer goes off, Darcy is unwilling to risk not talking to him again. She grabs a pen while he goes to get his stuff.

“Here’s my number-”

“Pretty sure this is-”

In her hand is the coffee receipt with her info scratched onto the back.

In his hand is her Culver hoodie.

Steve- _Captain America_ takes the slip from her hand before she can stop him or zap him or… They _spark_. 

“Sorry,” she apologizes automatically.

“Don’t be. Can I still call you?” He clutches the receipt like he’s afraid she will fight him for it. She is the bad guy, after all.

She nods. She will get him drooling on the floor however she can. She _is_ the bad guy, after all.


	5. I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soulmarked!Steve x surprised!Darcy

“Hey there, this is your daily reminder that I am still missing my ipod.”

“How did you get this number?”

“Magic. And maybe you need better screening practices before you let just any ol’ jack booted thug into your super secret spy organization.”

Phil Coulson takes a breath and considers just who would be insubordinate and essential enough to even contemplate giving away his phone number. To Darcy Lewis.

“I may not be on the correct continent at the moment, but please remind Agent Barton that I know where he sleeps.”

“Ooh, kinky. So… I guess I’m not interrupting anything important.”

Phil is relying on government-issue stimulants and boyish giddiness to counteract jet lag, subzero temperatures and general impatience, which is maybe why he can’t stop himself from saying “I’m in a meat locker babysitting Captain America.”

“Ew, did SHIELD pull a Walt Disney and keep his head frozen in a vault somewhere? That’s incredibly gross and yet also somehow par for the course.”

“Classified information, you know the drill, Ms. Lewis.”

“Yeah yeah, I solemnly swear I only use facebook to make political commentary and pithy one-liners on cat videos. And sometimes school your agents at Scrabble. I wanna say hi to Captain America!”

“Only if you promise not to call me for at least a week.”

“Aw, you know you miss me.” She hums _Star Spangled Man_ for a few bars. “Ooh I got it, put me on, put me on.”

Phil doesn’t even feel foolish holding his phone out so the tinny speaker is directed toward the slowly melting block of ice.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream,

Really do come true…”

Someone stumbles on something outside, so Phil has no compunction about hanging up on Darcy Lewis. It feels very satisfying.

Until they get Captain America out of his frozen prison and cut off the uniform. Then Phil sees the bold black words streaked across the white of his forearm.

“Oh shit.”

Darcy receives _an_ ipod in the mail, but it’s too new and shiny to be hers. Honestly hers was probably squished under a building in New Mexico and Agent Office Dad just doesn’t want to admit he doesn’t know where it is because it goes against his omniscient shtick. She scrolls through and finds mostly show-tunes, which she supposes was a reasonable assumption on his part. Musicals is her current kick though, she was on a 90s boy band bender before (something about the desert had her really feeling Savage Garden). She knows that words have a lot of power during one’s formative years, whether you allow yourself to be molded by them or very violently _don’t_. Hers instigated an ever-growing arsenal of music. Much tamer than that guy in middle school who had to live with ‘nice tatts’ on his neck.

* * *

Steve wakes up with words he didn’t have in 1945. Of everything his chilled brain has to work through, it doesn’t occur to him that he hasn’t said a word back until he learns that _she_ doesn’t know yet. And Steve is grateful for bureaucracy because now he has a little breathing room before he has to face a new era and a new girl with no idea what to do with either. 

They gave him two folders. Peggy’s is thick with life, wads of paper and ink documenting her years of service. He reads greedily, amazed all over again but not surprised that she could accomplish so much. There’s a phone number he could call, but it’s not like 70 years on ice has made him any better with his words.

The other… he almost can’t bear to look at it because it feels unfair, is only a couple sheets. He doubts anything on them will explain why his soulmark was a prank call.

The folder is still closed on his desk when the director approaches him about the Cube. It’s a relief to push _her_ to the back of his mind and only have to think about the mission. 

Agent Coulson stumbles his way through an apology about the phone incident as the Quinjet takes off. 

“She call you a lot?”

“Only to be difficult.” Coulson winces a little as he realizes how that sounds and adds, “she grows on you.”

“And the… singing?”

The agent shrugs. “Darcy likes her music. I had to write up her file but she’s- hard to put on paper.”

Steve doesn’t ask any more, still too chicken to want even the couple scraps of information he’s been given.

Steve picks up a blood-smeared card like maybe some of _that_ Steve, the one who inspired children and reduced competent agents to jelly, might rub off on him. Paper-Steve smiles flatly. Real-Steve rubs a thumb down his glove and hopes she’s somewhere safe. Somewhere over the rainbow, even. 

* * *

Darcy is rocking it to Sigur Rós (which okay, is not the right Scandinavian country but Norway is a bit too metal for her) when Jane asks the million dollar question after yet more deflections by politely confused scientists.

“Why do you even need me here?”

Jane is off on a tangent about the wormholes that she could be making (and breaking) while Darcy rolls her eyes. Who would even waste money dropping them in the lap of… well actually, she knows who _would_ but then… what would Nancy Drew do?

She pulls off her headphones and gets cracking. It doesn’t take long at all to find what she wants. It does take a while to actually get Jane’s attention off harassing the labcoats.

“You- you’re not supposed to have access to that.”

“Why? Because of your little firewall and security protocols? How lame do you think we are?” (1) 

Darcy has to commend whoever is brave enough to be filming two feet from Thor while he’s doing his lightning rod trick.

Thor goes flying off with Iron Man so she bounces around to see what other footage there is (making the labcoats behind them nervous again). 

She sees the big green guy that tore up the quad at Culver a few years ago. There’s a little patch of calm that the SHIELD feed she’s riding seems very interested in. She realizes why when she makes out a blue blob next to two black blobs that are either agents or ninjas (possibly both). One of them has no sleeves so she recognizes Biceps Barton immediately. She’d been wondering why he left their Words with Friends game hanging.

The blue uniform is holding a shield… huh, guess they kept more than just his head.

* * *

Steve is only passing by when he spots Barton and Natasha laughing over his phone. As he gets closer he hears the phone singing.

“So I get my handcuffs

My cyanide pills

My classified dossier

Tappin' the phones like yeah

Shreddin' the files like yeah” (2)

“Cap.” Natasha looks up, the usual tightness on her face gone for the moment.

“Ooh sounds like you have to get back to work. Slacker. Thanks for telling me about Erik. Jane and I will get him. Later Hawkguy.”

“Later, shortstack.” 

The phone beeps before Steve can formulate a real thought beyond “was that Darcy?”

Barton nods. “How’d you know?”

Steve grips his mark. “Coulson mentioned her.”

The name makes both agents tense in sync. Steve is envious a phone call made them forget.

* * *

Darcy’s eyes bug out when Clint drags her over to meet Captain America.

“This is Steve,” he says, like this is just some guy named Steve and not y’know, Steve Rogers, national icon, hero-extraordinaire, and general badass hunk.

“Hi. Darcy. I uh, wrangle nerds and make sure they have coffee and safety goggles. Except sometimes I forget about the goggles. Let me know if you need anything.”

Steve shakes her hand and Darcy fights off a case of the swoons.

“I’d like to hear you sing. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh sure, I uh… any requests?”

Steve rolls up his sleeve (there goes Barton’s title for best arms dealer) and points.

After it clicks, and Darcy does actually black out for a second when she puts it together, Steve finally gets to ask, “why that song?”

“It’s kinda dumb," she admits sheepishly. "I just wanted you to be some place there isn’t any trouble.” (3)

Steve's eyes light with warmth. "I understood that reference."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) the comic in which Darcy hacks the planet - https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/Marvel-s-Thor-The-Dark-World-Prelude
> 
> (2) Party in the CIA by Weird Al Yankovic- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-CG5w4YwOI
> 
> (3) Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Judy Garland - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oW2QZ7KuaxA


	6. Strange Mercy - St. Vincent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct sequel to [the original](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972916/chapters/9025477) outoftime!Steve x thoroughlymodern!Darcy

Steve is up to _Man from Mundania_. Darcy is pretty impressed since he only gets to read in between everything else going on when things aren’t on fire. Still, he finds time once a month to go out with her to explore the city. At this point it’s not about providing instruction since he can work a credit card and Google maps just fine, it’s more about providing context for things like cupcake-only bakeries and voice-to-text.

And the vinyl revival.

“Vinyl is scientifically better,” Darcy is telling Steve’s jack-booted gatekeeper of the moment.

“In every way except convenience, expense, variety and not looking like a douchebag,” says Agent Buzzkill.

“Leave it to SHIELD to prefer everything sans soul. C’mon Steve, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Darcy makes it a point to stop by the record store so she can look for hidden treasure. She doesn’t realize she may have unleashed a monster until after she’s done picking through the discount aisle (because okay yes, the G-man was right about the price thing). Steve is discussing the best place to get a refurbished record player with a heavily tattooed girl who might not even work here. 

“I’m a little surprised,” Steve admits as they’re hauling books and records and a few bags of chocolate-covered popcorn back to base. “I would never have guessed you felt so strongly about real records.”

“Why, because I’m attached at the head to my ipod?” Darcy laughs. “I _love_ music. It’s like food, the ipod is for everyday need-it-to-function basic survival. Vinyl is like that fabulously calorie-rich dessert that you can only indulge in once in a while. Well, only I can. I’ve seen you attacking chocolate cake. Also, I’d need a sound system made of sapient pearwood if I wanted to listen outside my room.”

Steve does not understand the reference.

“Next time we’ll start you on Discworld. Much to learn you still have, my young padawan,” she assures him, blithely mangling her Yoda quotes.

* * *

Steve finally finishes _Man from Mundania_ three months after buying it.

“At least you finished it. I don’t even want to know how many books I’ve got lying around that have never actually been opened. What’s next on your list?”

“ _Isle of View._ ”

Darcy’s heart stops for half a second but then she remembers, both the book and the fact that he’s wildly out of her league. “Cool, I’ll be in the sci-fi section.”

She instead finds a copy of _The Princess Bride_ (which she _knows_ she has on her shelf but still it’s _such_ a good book) and migrates around the bookshop with her nose well stuck.

Steve finds her among the bodice-rippers when he’s done. He actually has to nudge her in the shoulder to get her attention. 

“You ready for lunch? I’d like to try that Cuban place.”

“As you wish.” Darcy leaves the book on a cart with a loving pat that Steve doesn't miss.

* * *

Darcy insists on buying his finds today (including three Pratchett titles) because he’s going to help her build a bookcase (and lug the old one to the curb, completing the furniture circle of life).

Her apartment is a mishmash of things and colors, much like Darcy herself. There’s a wall dominated by big wooden speaker boxes, in the middle sit a turquoise suitcase record player and an ipod dock.

“That’s my frankensetup. I had to harass Jane into fixing up these speakers I got from a garage sale in New Mexico. Pick your poison.” Darcy gestures to the sleeves pinned to the wall and then the plastic crates under the suitcase. “Just let me know, don’t try to load it yourself. It, like many things Jane has touched, requires a certain… type of handling.” 

Steve sees there’s already a record sitting under the needle and he’s curious what Darcy considers to be worthy of her ‘fabulous dessert indulgence’. 

“You can just play what’s there.”

“Ooh, I love when things are easy.” She resets the needle and fiddles with a few cables, causing a blur of feedback in the speakers. She kicks the left one absentmindedly, and the electric squeal resolves into a hauntingly breathless voice. “This is St. Vincent. We can always switch if you’re not into it, I’ve got a Billie Holiday LP somewhere. Most of my favorites make it to the wall for easy access.”

Darcy is putting together a cracker platter while Steve transfers the books on the floor to their new home. He opens the leather-bound _Little Women_ and sees ‘Cecilia’ in lovely cursive on the flyleaf. He peeks at some of the other ones. The only one that has ‘Darcy’ written in it is a creased copy of _A Little Princess_. 

“Shirley Temple did a movie version of that. Did you see it? Did you ever _meet_ her?” Darcy hands him a plate with cut up cheese and sausage, wiping her hands down her jeans before reaching for the next block of books.

“No, I don’t think so. I know I never met her.”

“It was the first one she did in color and I have a huge soft spot for it. Probably wouldn’t have been your thing.” Darcy plops a cube of cheddar into her mouth. “I appreciate all your help by the way, this is so much easier with another person around.”

“Happy to be of service.”

Darcy rearranges a few things and adjusts the bookends before declaring them done. After they get the old shelf out.

She is maybe a little too absorbed watching Steve handle it all by himself. She doesn’t get to say ‘pivot!’ even once.

* * *

Jane and Erik are operating on maybe 4 hours of sleep between them so Darcy has to promise to organize all their atmospheric scans to make them go away. She has a fully charged ipod and a six-hour long ‘productivity!’ playlist. She can totally handle this.

She grabs her coffee mug and finds it empty. Again. Possibly for the third time. But really, she’s only going to be here for like… half an hour more so she doesn’t _need_ a refill. 

Forty minutes later she reaches for her mug.

She checks her progress and groans when she realizes there’s a ten-inch tall stack of papers on Erik’s chair that she missed. On top of what’s left from Jane’s desk. That’s like another three hours. 

“Well, shitsticks.” 

The dregs of SHIELD’s coffee carafe are exponentially worse because they are flavored with her unshed tears and frustrations. She sips anyway because bless their little jackbooted hearts, they all like it _damn_ strong.

She digs an elastic band out of Jane’s drawer and does her hair up in a ‘this means business’ bun so she can tackle the chair data. 

The current section of her playlist is pretty heavy on the bass so she doesn’t realize Steve is here until the current song fades.

She pops her earbuds out guiltily.

“Hi.”

“I got you a BLT.” Steve hands her a take-out box. “And fries.”

“You’re the literal best.” Darcy tells herself not to read too much into it. Steve is just being nice to one of his only friends. “How’d you know I was down here without food?”

“You texted me to say you were working late and wouldn’t make it for Thai,” he prompts her.

“Oh right. Remind me to make it up to you tomorrow.”

She’s too involved in the sandwich to hear the soft “as you wish” from the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per wikipedia: Strange Mercy [the LP] was written in Seattle while Annie Clark spent time in isolation, an experience she described as a "loneliness experiment" and "a cleanse". This was to escape from the information overload she was experiencing with New York and modern technology.
> 
> Seemed pretty perfect~


	7. I Like Me Better - Lauv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another [direct sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972916/chapters/9033235) because I don't think I can top the original with anything but whipped cream
> 
> cop!Steve x badgirl(kinda)!Darcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned everything about being a detective in New York City from _Castle_.  
> Too many sources to cite when it comes to being a professional bad girl.

Steve’s favorite part of the day is knocking off. His work life is enjoyable and meaningful, but he likes hanging up ‘Detective Steven Rogers’, heading to the coffee shop and just being ‘Steve’.

And always waiting for him is a slice of pie, a fresh cup of coffee and the best girl in New York. Today, the best girl in New York is looking distinctly frazzled and the pie is missing a corner, but the coffee is there, safely away from her sprawl of papers. 

“If you get a call out for murder at Hudson U, please ignore it, I assure you it will be well deserved.”

“I don’t work homicides, you’d have to bribe Romanov.”

Darcy makes a small snort of annoyance and shoves her work into her backpack.

“I hope your day was better than mine.” She swipes another forkful of his pie. “I’m going to finish this dissertation if it kills me. And maybe also my adviser.”

“I promise to visit you in jail.” Steve steers the plate closer to himself. “If you stop stealing my pie.”

“No, this is gateway crime. I have to build up to the cold-blooded murder, especially since my ferociously attractive cop boyfriend is going to be devastated when he finally realizes he’s been harboring a criminal mastermind.”

Steve laughs, a little pink around the ears. “I’m going to say I’m a good enough detective that I wouldn’t be your boyfriend if you were a criminal mastermind.”

Darcy flutters her lashes at him. “You’re not into bad girls? Orange doesn’t do anything for you? How about the handcuffs?”

Steve swallows his coffee and says nothing. 

* * *

“I can totally be a mastermind,” she announces after yet another week of plotting to do harm unto others. “My cousin says she’ll be my sidekick in atrocities against academia while she's here. And by the way, we had a discussion because she’s done like two PhDs already, and we agree that you were not being supportive, you shouldn’t pick your real job over my hypothetical but entirely plausible criminal career.”

He kisses her because he can’t help himself when she’s being ridiculous. Darcy kisses him back, sweet as candy, before swatting him in the shoulder.

“Hey! None of that. You’re trying to lead me down the path of righteousness. I wanna go down the path that _rocks_.”

“I think you watch too many Disney movies to be an effective criminal.”

“Maybe, but my evil laugh is on point.”

“So, I’m not at all surprised Darcy had run-ins with a cop, but how’d she convince you to go out with her?” Cousin Jane looks deeply interested in the answer.

“He landed on the ground and I asked if it hurt when he fell from Heaven.”

Steve’s lips wrinkle in his attempt not to encourage her by laughing. Jane looks completely convinced.

“That’s not actually how it happened,” he manages to get out.

“Close enough,” mutters Darcy.

* * *

Jane is a nice girl, very smart too, and Darcy has had a gleefully girlish giggle the entire week they’ve been crashing together. Steve is still glad Jane is gone because now that giggle is all for him. It emerges when he removes his shirt and gathers her into his arms.

“Ooh wait, it’s time to enact my evil plan.” Darcy squirms out of his embrace and shoos him to sit on the bed while she digs in her backpack. She triumphantly produces a bright pink pair of velcro cuffs. “I’m thinking I can change your mind on the whole bad-girl thing.”

“Oh really?” He’s got a dopey smile on his face that doesn’t match the thread of lust strumming in his veins. He offers her his wrists and she enthusiastically straps them in, checking that it won’t scratch him.

“Yup.” She arranges him onto the mattress so he’s laying flat, his bound hands under a pillow under his head. “Come to the dark side, we have cookies.” She plants her mouth on his and their tongues tangle together before she bounces off the bed to go search in his closet.

She returns with the horrible tie she got him for Christmas, sad looking basset hounds in santa hats all over it.

“Really?”

“ _Evil_ plan, Steve,” she reiterates as she loops it over his head, knotting it so his vision is dark. He can still see a little if he angles his head, enough to catch tempting views of Darcy stripping out of her sweater dress.

She runs his palms up his chest, skimming his nipples, and he shudders. Her laugh sounds more breathy than villainous. He feels her working at his belt and then she licks his abs and his brain can’t process anything until she jostles his hips, trying to get his pants off from under him.

“You could have planned your evil plan a little better,” he huffs, impatiently shifting his weight to help her.

She pinches his nipple in retaliation, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his now-free cock. She makes a delighted noise and wraps her lips around his head, gently tonguing the salty slit. He thrusts lightly into her mouth, reveling in the way her wet moans envelop him. He can feel the warm weight of her breast by his left knee, so he brushes up against it until she gasps. 

She lets his dick fall out of her mouth, crawling up the expanse of his chest to sprinkle kisses over his jaw. He turns to try and catch her lips with his but she dodges, giving him her fingers instead. He draws them into his mouth and tastes the slick of her cunt on the soft pads. He devotes the next minute to thoroughly savoring every last bit of her, driving his tongue between her digits like it’s her pussy. 

Her actual pussy rides his thigh, smearing sticky lust on his skin while she whines with want next to his ear. Her cunt drags over him, from knee to pelvis, as she chases her orgasm. He gets his feet under him so he can jerk his hips, anything to feel more of her. The hand not teasing his tongue reaches down to grip his shaft, her palm caressing his glans. 

“Let me see you cum,” he begs around her fingers.

She pulls out of his mouth to take the tie away, giving him full view of her. She is straddling his knee, frantically grinding down until her climax rips through her. 

He can see it in her hazy eyes, that she’s debating whether or not to remove the cuffs and let him have her the way they both so violently want.

It’s a quick twist of his wrist to snag the edge of velcro and free his left hand. He seizes her waist and slams her onto his cock, fucking up into her desperately. He sinks a thumb into her dripping folds to knead her clit because otherwise she will offer up some cute one-liner and he wants her empty of everything but _him_.

Darcy comes apart gratifyingly fast, panting his name.

He holds her tight against him despite the orgasm wracking her limbs, easily resisting her weak attempts to get away from the sensory overload. Her glasses are askew on her flushed face, slipping a little each time he plunges into her. 

Steve decides this is definitely his favorite part of the day, when his best girl is wobbling and needy, urging him to finish with muffled mewls and half-formed pleas. She’s still sighing nonsense into his shoulder as he comes thick jets deep within her.

“Did it hurt?” she asks, flopping bonelessly onto him.

Steve is still reeling from a mind-blowing orgasm so he walks right into it. “Did what-”

“When you fell from Heaven.”


	8. Small Victory - Transviolet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regular!Steve x sweettooth!Darcy (in honor of Valentine's Day)
> 
> I just need a small victory  
> A silver line to get me by  
> I just need a win, a neon sign  
> An arrow shot, a tunnel light  
> \- Small Victory

Coming back to New York after serving is like coming home after a break-in. Steve has no idea what new memory he will turn over and whether or not it will hurt him, but at least he’s _home_. And he has Sam, even though he spends more breath whining through their morning runs than actually running he still makes the support groups tolerable, and he has Bucky, because he will always have Bucky. Steve’s circle is expanding to Natasha (they met her at Bucky’s Russian literature book club) and Clint (because Natasha dragged him to Russian literature book club). 

Bucky says Nat and Clint are taking them to their favorite bar, run by some guy Clint may or may not have beat up in New Mexico (Nat asserts the guy beat _Clint_ up, but since he didn’t end the night in a dumpster, Clint has forgiven and forgotten). 

Steve is a little awed when they walk past the bouncer. He absolutely believes she could throw a 200lb drunk on his ass despite looking like a model. Might explain how this place can appeal to both Clint and Nat at the same time (he doesn't know how they get along so well with their complete lack of shared interests).

“Hey, you know you can’t come in until you pony up!” yells the girl behind the bar.

Sif looks down at Clint. Clint looks back defiantly for half a second before producing a bag of Swedish Fish that somehow allows him entry.

“How come you never hassle Tasha?” he grumbles. The women share a look and Clint backtracks quickly. “Yeah yeah, alright, no one is that dumb.”

Steve buys the first round because he knows he won’t participate in any of them after that. The bartender smiles at him, and chirps “New face! Hi, enjoy your temporary stay in _Valhalla_ , I’m Darcy.”

“Steve.”

“What can I get you, Steve? Just so you know, we brew our mead in-house. Locally sourced honey and everything. I personally am a huge fan of the cyser, it’s basically apple cider but better.”

“Alright, two cysers, one Sapporo and a vodka soda.”

“Oh, you’re with _those two_. Are you here to keep Barton in line or make him forget there is one?”

“Clint is Nat’s problem.”

Darcy laughs as she pulls on the katana handle to pour Clint’s drink. “Yeah, no, that won’t help. She likes watching him arm-wrestle Thor as much as the rest of us.” (1)

It’s after the second cyser that Bucky decides he could take Sif on left-handed. 

Darcy eyes him speculatively as they arrange themselves in front of her. “Tub of cheeseballs says you’re delusional.”

“I’m guessing that happens here a lot,” remarks Steve, looking at the table laden with junk food in the corner, printed sign boldly reading ‘PROOF OF PWNAGE - help yourself!’.

“Keeps everyone entertained. And fed.”

By the time Bucky accepts his defeat, the bar is owed cheeseballs, a bag of pistachios, half a dozen cookies and the jar of fancy Russian jam that Darcy needs to pay off Natasha for winning at darts.

“You’re relaxed,” Nat observes, picking green jelly beans out of the packet.

Steve is a little surprised to find that it’s true. The last time Clint took them drinking, it was a cop bar which should have helped but Steve felt on edge the whole time. “It’s good mead.”

“You feel safe,” she determines, lawyer-powers at work. “I’m glad.”

* * *

They make _Valhalla_ a regular thing because Nat is right, as usual. Darcy notices by the third time that Steve doesn’t ever do more than one drink and switches it up with water in a fancy glass of some variety every time. 

“So you don’t feel left out,” she explains with a wink, tossing a twist of orange peel into his tumbler. “Candy bar says your boy whiffs.”

Steve turns just in time to see Bucky missing the 8-ball.

“When was the last time you saw a vegetable?” he asks, only _mostly_ joking.

“Bloody Mary comes with celery so...” Darcy bursts into giggles at his expression. “Nah, end of the month we give the stuff to like little leagues or volunteers at animal shelters or starving grad students. Anyone who makes enough sad faces at Jane.”

Steve spends way too long in the chocolate section trying to decide which one Darcy will like the most.

She gives him a bright smile when he hands over the Cadbury bar. “Aww, this is the good stuff. You didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t want you to blacklist me over a dollar.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. Clint though… he knows what he did. The North remembers.” She breaks her chocolate into pieces before ripping open the wrapper, offering the wreckage to Steve and taking a chunk. “I can totally catch this in my mouth.”

“I don’t know… I’ve seen you play darts.”

“Completely different skill set,” she retorts. “I want dark chocolate next time.”

“First you have to prove you’re not just talk.”

“You know,” Nat smirks as she sets crackers and some weird cheese she found on the table, “you buy Darcy a lot of chocolate.”

“Maybe if Bucky stopped failing to flirt with Sif, I wouldn’t have to.”

“I never see any of it over there,” she continues encouragingly, like he’s a witness who needs to be coached. “Which means she’s keeping it for herself. _Maybe_ you should buy her dinner next.”

Bucky sets down Steve’s drink in front of him. Nat takes in the hurricane glass topped with a skewer of fruit and a yellow umbrella, filled with ice water as usual. She gives Steve a very pointed look.

Steve pretends to be fascinated by the crowd chanting ‘chug, chug, chug’ around Clint and another regular. Darcy has a countdown going on her phone, not that they really need it. 

Val slams her empty bottle on the table before Clint is even halfway done. (2)

* * *

“When is she going to put him out of his misery?” 

Darcy glances at Steve before studying the way Sif bends over the pool table. Bucky doesn’t look miserable at all in this picture.

“Has he tried just asking her out?” she asks neutrally.

“No, I think he’s waiting until he actually wins something. To, you know… prove his worth.”

“That so.” Darcy appears to consider this. Then her trademark grin spreads across her face. “Bet you a bag of kisses she asks him out before he finds his balls.”

“You cheated,” Steve accuses her three weeks later, both of them watching as Sif walks in on her night off. She’s wearing a shimmery silver blouse and instead of her usual fingerless gloves, she’s got Bucky on her arm.

“Will never hold up in court,” Darcy replies primly, grabbing Sif’s preferred bochet. “ _I’m_ not the one who told her Bucky had a knife collection.”

Steve ends up going alone on Valentine's Day. He sits on the one empty stool while Darcy mixes some ridiculous pink thing for the couples waiting. Once they flock back to their cozy booths, he puts the bag of kisses on the bar.

“You could have waited a day and gotten those on sale, you know.” Darcy seems pretty happy anyway.

“Yeah, I know.”

She fixes him with that careful look she’s been giving him a lot lately. He thinks. It’s always gone before he can properly parse it.

She uses her fruit knife to slice open the package and tips everything out. Darcy groups them into tens and comes up with sixty four. She scoops it all back into the bag and returns it to him.

“Wrong kind of kisses, Steve.”

“Oh sorry, but then why didn’t you-”

“God you’re cute when you’re stupid.” Darcy pulls on his arm until he’s leaning awkwardly over the counter and she can press her lips on his cheek. “Sixty three more to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't come up with anything that fit the 'in vino veritas' schtick so I threw it in in a shaker with ice and sugar
> 
> (1) - callback to Clint running around with a katana in Endgame and I forgot to reference Natasha running around the Stark legal dept looking harmless and cute
> 
> (2) - [relevant gif is relevant](https://gfycat.com/ifr/DifficultArtisticBarasingha)


	9. No Man is an Island - The Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neighbor!Steve x girlnextdoor!Darcy

The walls here are paper thin, which greatly contributes to the low cost of rent. 

It allows Steve to have a bedroom and an office even after converting the main space into his studio. 

There’s a tiny scrap of balcony, and the windows are mostly uninhibited by the neighboring buildings so he only needs a couple extra lamps in the afternoon to have a workable amount of light most of the day.

Darcy has enough birthday money and savings to go unemployed for maybe three months.

So as long as it’s not bed bugs or neo-Nazis, she will put up with whatever is the problem with her new apartment until she survives an interview and gets a real job.

Jane helps her check for exposed wiring and unpack boxes, and then they eat pizza and watch Star Trek on her laptop, balanced between their beanbag chairs.

Steve can immediately tell people are moving in next door which is a bit disappointing, but he doesn’t make enough money to buy out the other apartment so it’s not like he can complain. 

He can’t hear much beyond some thumping and the occasional laugh so at least both sides will have a little bit of privacy.

It is early ass o’clock when Darcy wakes up.

She blinks blearily while her brain tries to figure out why her body has betrayed it in this heinous manner.

She hears groaning and after ten seconds identifies it as the water pipes.

Since she’s not sleep dish-washing and it’s unlikely anyone broke in just to use her shower, it’s clearly her _neighbor’s_ water that she is hearing.

Just her freaking luck.

She can’t exactly march over there on her first day and demand he keep his early bird shit to himself since he’s not actually doing anything wrong. 

Aside from _life_ , because what even happens before 7:00 am worth waking up for?

Steve gets back from his run and hops into the shower immediately, like he usually does.

He’s in the middle of shaving when he remembers that the pipes are noisy as hell and he has neighbors now.

He silently promises to buy them fruit or something to apologize. 

When she left this morning, she thanked god there was no elevator (not that she could afford a building with one anyway), because she can’t even fathom how much racket that shit would make.

After two interviews and an exploratory trip around her new neighborhood which ended in buying groceries, she wonders how the hell she’s going to survive the stairs for six months.

She crawls upwards at a snail’s pace, deeply regretting all the canned soup she bought (it was on sale).

When she finally arrives on the fifth floor, she finds a plastic bag of bananas tied to her door handle.

There’s a sticky note with ‘sorry about any noise - 5A’, which Darcy appreciates.

Since she has no plans to inconvenience herself outside official quiet hours, she may as well buy herself some goodwill ahead of time.

When Steve gets back from arguing with Fury about his commission rates, there’s a cat-shaped post-it note on his door with an arrow pointing down to a ziploc bag of sugar cookies.

If he concentrates, he catches a faint whiff of vanilla and carbon.

* * *

Steve pushes his runs and therefore his showers back half an hour.

Darcy gets used to being a semi-morning person.

Copious amounts of coffee assist in this.

5B indulges in bacon maybe once a month. 

Based on the smell, they are in the ‘burnt and black’ camp.

Sometimes, when the wind blows right or doesn’t blow at all she’s not sure which, she gets a face-full of chemical vapors when she hits the fifth floor landing.

The first time, she thought maybe 5A was painting the walls.

Now she figures they have some kind of etsy hustle.

  
  


Steve had let management know last week that the lock was feeling stickier, thinking that it wasn’t urgent yet.

Steve was wrong. 

He can’t turn the key more than a few degrees before feeling a lot of resistance.

He’s too afraid to damage anything and lose his security deposit to do more than curse while he texts the landlord.

He rattles the door halfheartedly like maybe he can shake loose whatever the problem is.

Darcy is pretty sure she rocked the hell out of that interview and skips up the stairs, ready to break into her banana bread.

She skids to a halt when she lays eyes on the guy outside the other apartment.

“I sincerely hope you’re not trying to break in. I have a taser.”

“Well, I am trying to break in but I live here.”

He tries to withdraw the keys, but they are now stuck in the knob.

“I bought you bananas,” he offers up, as proof of his identity.

Good enough for Darcy. 

“You think some WD-40 would do it?”

Jane has proven that duct tape and WD-40 are all you need to solve 90% of life’s problems.

AA batteries tend to fix the remaining 10%.

“Couldn’t hurt.”

It takes all of Darcy’s dubious trespassing skills, the WD-40 and a Starbucks giftcard with 27 cents on it that she couldn’t bear to remove from her wallet until now.

But eventually Darcy conquers the lock.

No scratches or anything beyond the lingering smell of lube.

“Thanks. I never realized how difficult burglary was.”

“Yeah, no turning to a life of crime. I don’t even have a day job to quit. I’m Darcy by the way.”

“Steve.”

* * *

Someone knocks on his door.

“Hey so... random but specific question, what are your thoughts on paprikash?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“My friend Wanda made a bunch for our stitch n’ bitch but she has tastebuds of iron and I hate wasting food so I said I’d take it but… it’s like chicken-flavored paprika stew. I made gnocchi but then I realized I had ten pounds of dinner and I mean, it doesn’t taste bad, it’s just a _lot_.”

Steve also hates wasting food so he agrees to try some.

His place smells like turpentine and oil paints so he follows Darcy into her apartment. 

He can smell the spices ten feet away from her door.

Darcy’s only bowls look like planets (thanks Jane).

At least her silverware isn’t cereal box prizes.

She gives Steve Jupiter, because as nice as his ass is, she is not ready to make a statement on it just yet.

Steve was brought up to eat at the table, no TV or cellphones during the meal.

Darcy doesn’t actually have a table.

He’s not sure how he manages to sit in the bean bag chair and eat without pouring stew all over himself, but he does.

She very generously does not laugh at all as she watches Steve’s struggle from the corner of her eye.

* * *

Something ticks against the glass door. 

Steve looks and spots a green M&M as it bounces on his balcony.

He squeezes outside and catches the next one in the air.

“Hi. You were missing the sunset.”

“I’m an artist, I can’t even begin to count how many sunsets I’ve seen.”

Darcy nails him in the shoulder with a red one.

“You were missing out and now you’re not. End of story.”


	10. Holding Out for a Hero - Jennifer Saunders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> avenging!Steve x babystark!Darcy  
> set between Winter Soldier and Age of Ultron

Steve is working the sandbag as usual when Natasha glides into the gym, trailed by Clint and a girl Steve has never seen.

“I feel like this is overkill,” the unknown says as she gathers her hair into a ponytail. 

“If your only teacher was Harold Hogan, then I’m amazed you’ve survived as long as you have.”

“Ouch, that was like a double-backhanded swan dive of a diss.”

“You get used to it,” assures Clint.

“Why are you even here?”

“Who would say no to ringside seats to Black Widow tortu- I mean ‘training’ her new protege? I’mma call you Itsy Bitsy.”

“And I’mma taze you if you try.”

“Steve, please come distract Barton. Darcy, stop stalling.”

‘Distracting’ in this case means a bunch of ranged targets that Clint and Steve try to hit with their respective weapons, at increasingly impossible angles.

Darcy, who is supposed to be learning how to fall properly, is less focused on Black Widow (big mistake) than she should be (totally worth it though). 

The only proof that Natasha Romanov is in fact human and not an android is that she also pauses to watch when Steve launches his shield so it ricochets off one dummy’s head, knocks over the water bottles they set up next to a ‘hostage’, bounces off a wall, twangs against one of Clint’s spent arrows and then returns to his hand.

“Does that thing have Myeumuh powers too?” Darcy asks in awe. “Because that was totally wicked.”

“Less gawping, more dropping.” 

* * *

Darcy is in the conference room right before an Avengers briefing. She adds an extra folder to Thor’s seat and makes sure the trail mix Bruce likes is topped up.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” quips Tony.

“Blame the bad genes,” she fires back.

“Hey!”

“Can’t talk, you have a meeting now.” 

Darcy's folder turns out to contain Dr. Foster’s latest publication. Thor and Bruce are reading it together.

And she replenished Steve’s supply of scratch paper (because he still doodles when he’s bored). 

Hill doesn’t seem to care that the only one who appears to be paying attention is Natasha (but then, Natasha is the textbook definition of ‘appearances can be deceiving’).

* * *

Black Widow’s prescription for Sucking Less involves running. A lot of running. For building stamina and also because running to things and away from things is a major part of life. 

Darcy crams headphones into her ears and hopes the treadmill doesn’t eat her shoelaces. 

Steve shows up half an hour in, but she’s too drained to do more than sneak a couple appreciative peeks.

It’s just _so much running_.

Dummy rolls into the gym when she's done, clutching a travel mug in his claw.

“Aw, is that for me?” She takes a careful sip and smacks her lips a few times as she contemplates. “Maybe no cream cheese next time.”

* * *

“Three simultaneous attacks, one hacker per team.”

“And we can’t use Jarvis because?”

“Fury shut down your house.” Maria doesn’t look away from the screen.

“And it will never happen again. I’ll give you that Widow is passable-”

“ _SHIELD_ put her on your payroll and you had no clue,” Maria continues over him. “We need three live users because HYDRA agents have been studying Jarvis for years. They might not be able to replicate it, but they will sure as hell be on alert for your AI.”

“I’m one, Stark is a _passable_ two. Who’s the third?” asks Natasha, focused on the important things as usual.

Darcy raises her hand. 

Everyone aside from Tony looks dubious.

“I hacked SHIELD from a bunker in Norway,” she offers with a shrug. “And I’ve been ninja-boosting my allowance since I was ten.”

“I can still ground you,” Tony threatens.

“The AI likes me better, so… no you can't.”

Darcy gets through the first two layers of security without a problem. Steve and Clint are awarded the signature Stark smirk. 

“All your base are belong to me. Ooh! Third floor has something important. Possibly what we’re after.” She winces as Clint fires off an explosive arrow. “I could waste time cold cracking it, buuut... if you can get me to a networked terminal, it’d go much faster and we don’t have to hang out with these losers. They’re awful hosts.”

Hawkeye splits off to be the noisiest decoy he can be while Steve and Darcy head to the research levels.

Darcy is working on the console when she gets tackled to the ground. There’s a few seconds of blind panic before she realizes she’s tucked against Steve’s chest while bullets slam into the shield.

“I have flashbangs, an EMP and shock grenades.” She tries not to whimper, because competent sidekicks don’t whimper.

Steve risks a glance around the curve of vibranium. 

“Grenade. Should give us enough breathing room to get out of here.” 

Darcy wriggles around in the small shelter they've got to get to her utility belt (yes, and she had hers engraved with a little bat symbol on the buckle). 

When she deposits them in Steve’s free hand, they’re almost close enough to kiss. 

Steve has her hold the shield and winds up.

She’d definitely call the ensuing blast a homerun.

A week later, Darcy bumps into Steve in the hallway. She sputters and blushes but remembering their last interaction causes a flush to creep up his neck as well. 

They stare at each other.

Darcy recovers enough to flash him a soft smile before continuing on her way. 

* * *

“You’re the only one.” Natasha looks dead serious, but there’s a flicker of a laugh in her eyes.

“Clint?”

“Would have been fine except she knows where he’s ticklish.”

"Any one of the-"

"Bruisers that get paid by her father? Yeah, no."

“Thor?” Steve tries a little desperately.

“I’ll ask him when he gets back from outer space. Come on, I’m starting to think you don’t like Darcy.”

Steve sighs but follows her. She doesn’t bother hiding a triumphant smile.

“Get your arm up faster.” Natasha circles the mat, where Steve is restraining Darcy. “If you have your arm up, you have leverage. Again.”

Steve lets go and backs up. When he moves forward, Darcy dodges to the left and is able to get one hand under his arm as he grapples her. She struggles to regain her stance before finally managing to complete the throw. Steve stumbles a step rather than rolling away, but considering the height and weight he has on her, she's made a lot of progress in the hour he's been manhandling her.

Darcy blows a sweaty lock of hair out of her face and beams at him.

* * *

“Hey, so I was thinking, if you could, and you know you don’t have to, but I wanted… boxing.”

Steve looks at Darcy in confusion. And maybe a little disappointment.

“Boxing?”

“Would you teach me? Nat threatened to disown me if I asked for Happy’s help, and he pulls his punches anyway. I’ll buy you all the lunch.” She produces an ingratiating grin that is much more effective than Natasha's.

“Okay, yeah.” 

Steve is fending off a group of HYDRA thugs with Chitauri weapons. 

“Head down, Cap,” Darcy chimes in his ear piece. 

A flashbang goes off at their feet, disorienting the advancing squad. Darcy plows a stolen convoy through their ranks to pull up beside him.

“Hi.” She pauses to punch out the last guy standing through the missing windshield. “Need a lift?”

“Nice right hook.”

“I had a good teacher.” She gives him her usual smile, adding a flirtatious wink this time. “You want to get out of here and like, do coffee or something?”

“Coffee would be great.”


	11. Sugar Sugar - The Archies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bakery!Steve x happythoughts!Darcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.”  
> ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
> 
> I don't know how many baking shows y'all watch, but now they have Chopped: Sweets so... yeah.

Steve decides on _Second Star Bakery_ because the battered but beloved copy of _Peter Pan and Wendy_ is the only piece of Joseph Rogers that Sarah could bear to look at after he died. And because Bucky gets competitive about odd things, the menu is littered with constellations, white for the Rogers recipes, red for the Barnes. Most months customer preference is even but, not that Steve is _really_ keeping track, it’s usually the white stars that pull ahead.

Bucky is a good partner and he is a genius with precision decorating, even though Steve will only tell him these things once a year when they work on their taxes. It was his idea to have a video feed of the kitchen playing in the storefront.

Mostly it’s little kids who see Bucky wielding his piping bag and then drag their parents into the store. Sometimes it’s people who just like watching guys kneading dough or rolling fondant or whipping meringue. Sam and Bucky enjoy the attention (yet another thing Bucky gets competitive about) and as long as they do trade secrets offscreen, Steve will let them have it. 

Steve prefers to work the cash register anyway and actually interact with the customers.

* * *

The shop is packed right now, swarming with people who all have somewhere else they need to be. Steve notices a girl in a red beanie who is definitely not a native New Yorker, not with the way she lets people shove past her as she admires the portraits of Sarah Rogers and Winnifred Barnes. Steve doesn’t like to brag, but he is quite proud of himself for how well the mural turned out. 

Once the chaos has calmed, she approaches, pausing a minute to appreciate the pirate ship painted on the counter. 

“Hi!” she chirrups before Steve can greet her. 

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“I need your celebrating-est cupcake.”

Steve grabs a box. “What are you celebrating?”

“New job. And by extension a tiny house-warming, because I’m going to need every pretense I can get my hands on to tolerate this apartment.”

Steve smiles a little and switches to a bigger box. “Well in that case, here’s our Margarita cupcake with tequila-lime frosting. And a Death by Chocolate, on the house. Congrats on the job.”

“Oh wow, thanks.”

Sam and Bucky suddenly appear behind the counter, no doubt because they want to know who Steve is giving freebies to.

The girl claps with delight. “Let me guess-”

Steve braces himself for a Lost Boys joke.

Instead she points at Steve “faith”, her finger moves to Bucky “trust” and finally lands on Sam “and pixie dust.”

* * *

Steve is replenishing the display case with Bucky when a pair of legs crosses his vision.

“Hi again. I just wanted you to know you’re all horrible people. Those were like the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth. I will never be able to choke down a box mix again.”

Bucky straightens out and leans over the counter. “From a purely academic standpoint, which one was better?”

“Duh, chocolate always wins.”

“Dammit Steve.”

“Chocolate is a classic,” Steve replies as he stands. "And the customer is always right."

The girl from three days ago gives him a grin before tapping her phone number into their Fivestars tablet. “One cupcake, please. In any other life-ruining flavor.” 

“I guess you could try Bucky’s s’mores monstrosity. Just to be fair.”

“Sold.”

Steve has to look at his tablet to enter her points, so it’s only natural that he reads her name off the app. Her name is Darcy. And her avatar is a cartoon poptart.

* * *

“Welcome back.”

“Is it sad that you recognize me after only a week?” Darcy asks with pretend resignation. Steve doesn’t admit that he’s always been good at faces, but he actually has been kind of looking forward to her coming back.

“I prefer to think of it as excellent customer service on my part. What can I get you today?”

“Actually nothing for today, I’ve been put in charge of getting a cake for my boss’ birthday next week. I was told bosslady doesn’t like chocolate, so I may reconsider working for her.”

“Sure, are you thinking a fruit flavor? Our burnt almond cake is pretty popular too.”

“Ha, well since she’s a little nuts herself, the almond sounds perfect. Can I pick it up Wednesday afternoon?”

“No problem,” Steve digs out his order notepad. “How many people would it be for? And the name on the cake?”

“Oh, 15 people. And just put ‘happy birthday Jane’ on it. No exclamation points. We’re not that kind of operation. They only get excited about science.”

“Okay, I think an 8-inch cake would do the trick. We’ll have it for you on Wednesday.” He peels off the top layer of paper and hands it to her. 

Steve is on the phone with one of his suppliers when Darcy strolls in to collect her cake. She wiggles her fingertips hello. 

He gives her a nod and ducks into the back to finish his call before getting her order. 

He’s about to push the door open when he hears her talking to herself.

“I solemnly swear I will _not_ say the words ‘8-inches of nut’ at any time,” she mutters. “Not at work. Or on Facebook. Well, maybe Facebook. Definitely not to the beefcake baker. Yeah. I got this.”

Steve has to gulp down a chuckle. He waits by the door for a few minutes, ignoring Sam’s eyebrow, so the pair of them can compose themselves.

After she finishes paying, he jogs over to get the door for her. She flashes him a smile in thanks, and Steve thinks he sees a glimmer of Mrs. Darling’s kiss in the corner of her lips.

* * *

It takes him eight months, three weeks and four more free desserts before she gives it to him. 

“You taste like sugar,” she whispers against his mouth.

“You taste better,” he assures her.

“Totally worth the effort,” she says as she steals another kiss.

“What?”

“Dude, you have _no_ idea how much gym-time I put in so I could keep coming here. I thought about running your cake through the mass spectrometer at work, because they’d totally let me, but then I decided my brain wouldn’t be able to handle knowing how much butter I eat because of you. How the hell do you still have muscles?” She pinches his bicep in frustration.

“Running from crocodiles.”

Darcy laughs. Steve could swear he can hear the whole world beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That whole scene in Civil War was the inspiration for the background noise.


	12. Hey Soul Sister - Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an experiment in incoherence?
> 
> CaptainAmerica!Steve x timeslip!Darcy

2012

"Well, if there's an Einstein-Rosen bridge, then there's something on the other side. And advanced beings could have crossed it!" Jane argues.

"A primitive culture like the Vikings might have worshiped them as deities," Darcy points out, maybe a little _too_ flatly.

“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” asks Heimdall in her ear as she mangles Mjolnir’s name.

“Shh, I’m in character.”

-

2014

The Gatekeeper’s eyes fix upon Darcy Lewis. 

She lingers behind while Thor rushes to Jane. She lets a little of her true self show, since Heimdall is the only one who can see.

“Hi.”

“Sister.”

“This body has as much relation to you as Thor’s old goat.”

“We both know it’s not about blood, but the Soul.” Heimdall’s eyes flash orange with power. “The Stonekeeper still attends his vigil, in as much misery as even you could wish for.”

“Utter fuckwad,” Darcy grumbles. “You know he dropped a wall on me.” (1)

“Yes, I saw.”

“I really did think I’d last longer as a boy. Lack of women’s rights and all.” Darcy shrugs. “I tried to stop them from advancing too far too fast…” she glances in the direction of Jane, “but Earth has some very smart cookies.”

-

1942

It was a slight miscalculation, standing under the door, Heior admits when she finds herself ankle-deep in orange water. 

When she opens her eyes again, she’s Connie from New York. She doesn’t know how many times she’s found herself in a new life, but she very much appreciates that she steps into them fully formed, without having to bear the indignity of infanthood over and over.

She’s a nurse this time. Her next charge is one ‘Rogers, Steven’, for another bout of asthma. He has a coughing fit right as she walks in. Connie almost starts coughing herself, because his soul is rich with _fate_ , so thick it burns.

-

Eons Before 

Together, the Nine Sisters built the Temple on Vormir.

As a gift, the Soul Stone blessed them with a son, Heimdall, and a daughter, Heior. (2)

Through his connection with the Stone, Heimdall had the power to find any soul in the universe. 

Through hers, Heior had the power of rebirth.

-

965 

The Frost Giants of Jotunheim began their conquest of the Nine Realms, starting with Midgard. The Asgardians, under Odin's rule, arrived in humanity's defense.

After the battle was finished, not all of them returned to Asgard.

Neither did the Tesseract.

-

1943

Sergeant James Barnes offers to take her dancing. 

“My friend and I were going to see the Stark Expo tonight.” (3)

“That’s even better, how’s seven?”

“You got a friend for Bonnie?” she asks, knowing in her soul that he does.

“Oh sure, she’s gonna love Steve.”

Bonnie does not, it turns out. 

It’s fine though, as she edges their group of four in the right direction, Connie is almost done with her purpose. Maybe she’ll get to live long enough this time to see Stark perfect that flying car. It reminds her of the skiffs on Asgard, but with a heck of a lot more style.

Bucky follows Steve into the recruitment center. It takes an incredible amount of effort, but Connie, dressed to go dancing, waits with Bonnie outside at the same time that Connie, in her nurse uniform, taps urgently on Abraham Erskine’s office.

“Doctor, there’s someone for you out front,” she informs him before pulling away from the door. 

She’s gone by the time Erskine gets out of his chair.

-

2011

She’s now Darcy Lewis, the only applicant to Jane Foster’s internship program.

At least she’s not a nurse.

-

1945

Captain America blows up a prisoner of war camp, and James Barnes ends up in her hands again. Because she’s an army nurse. 

She can already tell something in him has been tainted. His soul is strong though. She gives him her blessing, because he is a good dancer and she had fun on their date.

Steve Rogers waits to die.

Heior waits for his consciousness to slip away before approaching the bridge.

Her mortal shell is barely going to last three hours in the cold even without her pouring power into him. But this is nothing compared to Jotunheim.

“Heimdall.”

She feels her brother reach out to her across worlds.

“I can’t take him.”

“Wasn’t going to ask you to.” She wiggles her fingers. “Gimme your cloak.”

-

2012

The Mind Stone seeps through the cracks Loki left in Erik’s mind. But Loki is a narcissistic dumbass and he points the scepter at Erik’s heart, which has more than a little of _her_ protecting it.

So despite what his orders were, of _course_ Erik built a safeguard into the portal.

-

1946

She finds herself in the Soulworld, looking at Heimdall.

“They’ve found the Tesseract.”

Images flash in her mind, of Howard Stark, of New Jersey, of the Cube.

“I’ll handle it. When the time comes.”

She forces herself back to life and returns to Steve’s side.

“And until then, you will stand vigil?”

“It can’t be that hard, you’ve done it for centuries.”

-

1965

She can feel Heimdall watching as she dies. It takes her ten minutes of arguing with the empty orange pavilion before she awakens as Anna, a secretary at the military base Camp Lehigh.

“His soul will be fine for now. Mind your duty, sister.”

“I know, I know.” She looks down at the slightly too tight green blouse. “Oh, I don’t think I’m going to like this era.”

It’s ridiculously easy. All she needs is a newspaper with Anton Vanko being escorted away in cuffs splashed all over the front. Then she waits for Hank Pym to pass by the watercooler. She turns to Yvette, gesturing with the paper, “I can’t believe that guy was a spy. It’s a good thing Mr. Stark found out and had him deported.”

Yvette nods and says something in reply, but Anna is watching Pym. Paranoia and egotism churn.

A week later, Hank Pym turns down a position on the arc reactor team, despite Howard Stark personally offering him the job.

-

1974

“Hey, Stark built the City of Future. He still hasn’t delivered on that flying car, you know. Your buddy has more than enough money to put some where his mouth is.”

-

1986

The Kree Mar-Vell arrives on Midgard.

Heior is waiting for her. The Flerken climbing up her pants to demand a cuddle is the only reason she doesn’t have to waste time dying from blaster burns.

“I can help you get to the Tesseract. But first we’d better get you up to speed on Earth.”

They go see _Top Gun_ together because Heior doesn’t really know much about the Air Force, aside from it seems the easiest to infiltrate. Mar-Vell is so tickled she re-christens the Flerken ‘Goose’.

“Why are you helping me?” the Kree asks.

“Because you’re doing the right thing. And it’s my fate. But I also kind of need you to do me a favor. If you ever get the chance, you need to hide the Cube from the Midgardians. I _really_ wish they had just stuck to worshipping the damn thing, but if I had to blame anyone, it would be the one-eyed blowhard who decided putting it on this planet was the best course of action in the first place.”

-

2012

"It's time for you to go."

Heior looks down at the chunk of ice formerly known as Captain America and presses her fingers above his heart, where Abraham Erskine left an indelible mark on his soul. 

“You’re a good man, Steve. Catch you on the flipside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Jan  
> 2 - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heimdallr + https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gullveig  
> 3 - https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Connie
> 
> It started when I realized Heimdall's eyes glow orange like the soul stone and everything just kind of spun out from there. 
> 
> Darcy/Heior is now every plot-furthering coincidence to happen in the entire timeline of Earth like why Erskine is just wandering around in the hallway and happens to overhear Steve and Bucky, or why Erik was able to resist a Loki little but Clint didn't.


	13. I Love You Always Forever - Donna Lewis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> growingup!Steve x growingcloser!Darcy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops, my 90s is showing.  
> Also bonus Hocus Pocus. BECAUSE I CAN
> 
> You'd think working from home would make it easier to write but NO. Too many distractions, the internet is filled with cat videos and now I have to oppurrtunity to watch them alllll.

Darcy Lewis moves into their cul-de-sac when Steve and Bucky are seven. They are less than pleased to have yet another girl around, but they don’t say anything while their parents talk in the shade of the moving truck. 

Six year old Darcy decides she likes them more than playing house with Bucky’s three little sisters even though she and Rebecca are the same age. She keeps up better than Steve who has to pause for his inhaler so they can’t shake her loose as they head to their ‘secret base’ in the little copse of trees behind Steve’s house.

She seems content to just watch as they set empty bottles and action figures on a relatively flat rock. Bucky nails every one with his slingshot.

Steve is too short sighted to bother with the action figures, aiming only at the orange Sunny D bottles. He manages to hit two.

The next day, Darcy follows them to the secret base with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack clutched protectively in her arms. When Bucky sets up the targets again, Darcy produces a  [ blue and pink ring ](https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/vintage-koosh-woosh-flying-ring-thing-1914174971) from her bag and gives it to Steve.

Steve actually manages to knock everything down with it.

Darcy looks prouder than he feels.

* * *

Darcy falls out of a tree when she’s eight. It suddenly started raining, and her foot slipped from the branch as she tried to get down.

She lays on the ground, her arm bent awkwardly underneath her.

Bucky runs to find an adult. Steve stays with her even though she tries to tell him to go home and get out the rain. Like he ever would with the way she’s gritting her teeth in pain.

After, when he’s sick in bed with a nasty cough, Darcy single-handedly delivers matzo ball soup made by Mary Lewis from her grandmother’s recipe.

* * *

The Lewises go to Japan for summer vacation when Darcy is ten because Darcy loves Godzilla movies almost as much as her father does.

Steve receives a set of Copic markers from her with something like reverence. Becca, Lizzy and Meg have no qualms screaming at the top of their lungs to express their joy over all the Hello Kitty. Bucky takes his Dragon Ball merch and runs before his sisters can make him mediate who gets what from the mess of key chains, erasers and accessories.

The secret base gets a small mountain of snacks that no one has any means to identify. Darcy, Steve and Bucky spend the rest of summer taste-testing every one and making up stories for the characters on the packaging.

* * *

Rebecca outgrows My Little Pony and Lisa Frank and joins Darcy in her passion for grunge and punk rock. 

Mary, a little scared of her neighbors, hurriedly tries to reduce the damage with pie. It helps that Darcy washes her hair more regularly than the bands she likes. 

Winnie is thrilled she doesn’t need to buy a new back-to-school wardrobe since Becca (who insists on being called Becks now) can now just wear Bucky’s old clothes. Even his shoes. 

Sarah gives Mary some of Steve’s flannels, remarking that she’s lucky her boy has finally hit a growth spurt.

Steve’s hand-me-down shirts are the perfect amount of worn and torn to embody the anti-consumerism in Darcy’s  _ soul _ . 

Steve looks confused when he sees Darcy wearing the blue shirt he begrudgingly put in the ‘outgrown’ pile only last week. 

She didn’t even fix the ripped pocket first. 

Then he accompanies Bucky and Becca-Becks to the mall and realizes there’s a whole section in Tower Records full of people dressed in the same kind of thrift-store apathy.

Darcy wears his shirt at least twice a week for the next three years.

* * *

Becks and Darcy are not so punk that they want to miss Homecoming their freshman year. Bucky is between girlfriends so he doesn’t mind putting Darcy down as his date while Steve writes in Rebecca’s name with a miniscule amount of disappointment.

Steve’s mom hands him a blue tie that is supposed to go with Becks’ dress. 

The four of them pose in the Barnes’ living room for all three misty-eyed mothers.

Darcy’s dress is black, ‘like her heart’ she jokes, making Steve smile a little wider for the camera. 

Winnie wants one with just Bucky and Becks. Sarah, with a mother’s intuition, makes Steve and Darcy take a couple by themselves too ‘to use up the roll’.

* * *

The moms are baking stuff for Sarah’s table at the church fair when talk turns to college applications.

Sarah has Steve bring his SAT books over to Darcy because they did help a lot and releases him from dough-duty. Mary thanks him with a flour covered wave.

He knocks on Darcy’s room, the already ajar door swinging open to show Darcy completely engrossed in her homework with her headphones on. Steve makes a private bet with himself that it’s Pearl Jam in the Discman.

He drops the books on the desk next to her, startling her into slamming the notebook shut, but not before Steve catches a glimpse of his own name decorated with doodled flowers.

Darcy pulls her headphones off, face completely draining of blood when she realizes it’s him, and he can hear Eddie Veddar wailing before she stops the CD. He is too busy staring at her to congratulate himself, eyes registering the familiar blue flannel tied across her chest, Daisy Duke style.

“Is that my-”

“What about it?” she growls, deciding that the best defense is a good offense.

“Nothing, I just… hadn’t seen you wear it in a while, like a year. I’m surprised you still have it, that thing is old,” Steve babbles, feeling like he’s an inch from a very important epiphany.

Darcy’s pale face suffuses pink. “I’m surprised you noticed that.”

Something in her tone makes Steve assure her, “I notice everything about you.”

Pink deepens into red and it finally clicks.

They stare at each other, neither quite certain enough to be the first to say something.

Steve breaks soonest. “There’s less than 8 months until I go, but do you want to-”

“Yes,” Darcy interrupts him. “If that question ends in ‘girlfriend’, then the answer is yes.”

“Cool.” 

They stare at each other some more before Steve can’t help glancing down again at his old shirt. “If you want, I’ve got other shirts that might… fit better.”

Darcy straightens her back, causing the flannel to stretch even tighter and Steve’s pupils to dilate. “I dunno, I’m pretty fond of this one.” 

She gives him the same mischievous smile she used to have when they were sneaking cookies into their pockets.


	14. Call Me - Blondie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blinddate!Steve x perfectmatch!Darcy

April

There’s a girl who walks the same trail that Steve runs every morning. Steve only noticed her today because it’s impossible to miss the neon yellow of her shoes. They are blindingly bright and clean, so she must have just bought them. He found her again on his next loop, staring up a tree. As he got close, he heard a whistled segment from _Bohemian Rhapsody_ and from the branches came an answering chirp.

May

“I think it’s pretty serious. I guess he’s okay, for a limp noodle science nerd.”

“You said he was British? Is he going to stay here after he graduates?”

“He’s a dual citizen. On his mom’s side. His cousin lives in Brooklyn. Becca seems almost as in love with her as she is with Ian.” Bucky shudders.

June

“There’s a girl in my self-defense class. She seems like your kind of spunky, so if you want to get her number…” Nat gives him puppy dog eyes. 

“No thanks.”

July

“You think I’m backsliding or something, is that why you keep ‘hinting’ me to come?” Steve is only mostly joking with Sam.

“Nah, it’s just… one of the volunteers, political science out of Hudson, she’s pretty cute and I think you and her would hit it off. Get you out of your mope-zone. You can talk about how awful the Secretary of Defense is together.”

“I am not in a mope-zone. And Ross is a shit-stirrer of the worst-”

“Preaching to the choir, Steve.”

-

The girl with the yellow shoes has a habit of meandering across the path instead of staying on the right side. He’s spotted her start power-walking from 200 feet away, but by the time he’s passed her, she’s slowed down to watch a squirrel or poke a flower or wave to a dog. It does give him a tiny spark of joy when he makes her twitch. It’s a fifty-fifty shot whether he says ‘on your left’ or ‘on your right’ because of her disregard for the traffic rules of the trail, but surprising her is more fun than swerving around the stroller-moms. 

August

“You want to come to ‘family lunch’ on Saturday? I actually think you and Ian’s cousin might hit it off.”

“I need everyone to leave my lovelife alone.”

“Maybe if you actually had a lovelife, we would.”

“Can’t this Saturday, I told Sam I’d swing by the center, and that’s my only free day.”

“Alright, but you should try to make it to the next one. You’re basically family anyway.”

Steve grumbles but agrees. 

-  
  


Sam is talking to Sharon when Steve walks in. From the way they both stare before pretending that they _weren’t,_ he guesses they’re discussing him.

He catches the tail end of their conversation.

“- had a family thing.”

“Well, maybe next time.”

September

Steve is stretching when she wanders past, talking into her headphones. It’s not really eavesdropping given that the park is a public space, even though her shoes are louder than her voice. 

“-he’s so awkward, why do you like him?”

Steve works out the tightness in his thighs.

“Hey, I’m the one who wrote his dating profile and trained him how not to sound like an ass on the first date. Like Cyrano all up in this bitch, except without the crippling insecurities and death. Which reminds me, how do you tell your physicist is an extrovert? He stares at your shoes instead of his own.”

-

It takes Steve hours of arguing with himself before he gives in and asks Bucky for advice on how to talk to a girl. Bucky laughs in his face and then rattles off a list of things that Steve is pretty sure he ripped from _How I Met Your Mother_. 

Steve turns to Natasha next. Natasha texts back a wall of words.

**Nat**

_I’m a girl and you talk to me all the time_

_Do NOT listen to Barnes, just be urself. If she doesn’t like you for you, what’s the point_

_Does this mean you have a girlfriend now?_

_Or at least a date_

_Too bad, I still think you and Darcy would be great together_

_The girl in my krav maga class. She was totally open to getting your digits_

_I don’t have a girlfriend or a date, I’m still working up to it._

_Oh well in that case, I bet shes still open to getting your #_

_Worst comes to worst you dont hit it off and then you never see each other again_

_But I’ve got a good feeling_

Steve considers Nat’s worst case and decides to give it a shot. If/when he messes up, he can count it as a practice round.

_Ok, fine give her my phone number._

_Just don’t bother me about it unless I bring it up_

_w00t_

_Did you seriously just say w00t_

_I srsly did_

  
-

Sam pretends to be hurt that he’s Steve’s third choice for dating advice, even though his is pretty much the same as Nat’s. He also guilts Steve into emailing with the poli-sci volunteer.

“Not that I think either of you would, but it is harder to harass someone with just email.”

Steve agrees with the sentiment and tells Sam which email address to give her.

October

To: steve.grant@gmail.com

From: deelewcious@gmail.com

Subject: Hi Sam’s friend

Hi Steve,

I’m Darcy. I’m working on a PhD in political science and doing a bunch of other things so I don’t get to meet people outside work or school. Thanks for this by the way, sounded like, unlike me, you don’t accept blind dates that often. I promise I’m not a serial killer or in a pyramid scheme for essential oils.

Wednesdays and weekends are usually pretty free, so if you want to get coffee or something just let me know. 

Darcy

-

Steve doesn’t check his email religiously so he doesn’t read his new message until the day after, when he gets a text from Bucky to accept Becca’s damn calendar request already.

He grudgingly opens the forwarded invitation and hits yes to ‘family lunch’ for tomorrow. 

He’s still crafting a response to Darcy’s email when a text comes in from a number he doesn't know.

**(718) 867-5309**

_Hi Nat’s friend! I’m Darcy, her krav comrade and your potential coffee date_

_Wednesdays and weekends work best. Thanks!_

Steve stares at his phone. Then at his laptop.

Then he decides to ask Bucky what he should do at lunch tomorrow.

* * *

Becca buzzes him in and leaves the apartment door open since she’s stirring sauce. Bucky catches him as he’s taking his shoes off and brings him to the living room.

“Guys, this is my best friend and Becca’s other brother Steve. Steve, this is Ian and Darcy.”

Darcy freezes mid-sip when she sees him, sloshing a little ice tea onto her hand.

“Hi.” Steve manages to wave weakly. “I’m Steve.” 

“You and half the city apparently,” she mutters.

Steve thinks about the bright blue laces he saw on a pair of black Chucks in the doorway. “Actually…” He pulls out his phone and brings up the messaging app.

**Darcy**

_Hi Nat’s friend_

_And Sam’s friend_

_And Bucky’s friend_

_And park friend_

“You should get that,” he encourages as her pocket dings, uncaring of Bucky’s confusion.

Darcy bemusedly unlocks her phone and turns pale.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

* * *

**Bucky, Nat, +2 others**

Bucky

_YOU GUYS ALSO SET HIM UP WITH DARCY >! _

Sam

_What_

Nat

_ALSO?!_

_roflmao_

Steve

_I was working up to it on my own_

Nat

_ <3<3<3 _

_I knew she was perfect for u_


	15. How to Be a Heartbreaker - Marina and the Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fakeboyfriend!Steve x kindasortaspy!Darcy
> 
> between Civil War and Infinity War

“I will give you fifty bucks and a cookie if you pretend to be my boyfriend for ten minutes.”

Steve looks at the girl who is suddenly twined around his arm. His only impression right now is ‘soft’, followed shortly by ‘American’. London is a constant reminder of Peggy, but the sudden taste of ‘home’ reminds him he doesn’t belong here.

“I think you’re underselling yourself. For a cookie, I’d do fifteen.”

The girl laughs. “Hey, you’re American. I have the best luck. It would have sounded really weird to say ‘biscuit’ in a pick-up line.”

He clocks her checking their surroundings even as she chatters, so Steve takes off his jacket and drops it on her shoulders, covering up the deep green of her sweater.

She looks pathetically grateful. 

Steve also clocks the slightly too muscular suits searching the intersection so he brings them into a coffee shop.

“What do I call you for the next eight minutes?”

“Darcy’s fine. And you?”

“Steve.” He dips a chunk of biscotti into his latte. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t ask what you’re doing after this.”

“I know who I’d like-” She snaps her mouth shut on the rest of the sentence, but Steve wasn’t born yesterday.

Neither of them seem willing to suggest that it’s safe to leave the cafe for a couple hours. 

“Do you eat dinner? I mean, is now a good time-” Steve stutters to a stop like an old car. 

“You can walk me back to my hotel,” Darcy offers.

Darcy steers them toward the Holiday Inn but just when Steve thinks she is about to head inside, she trips over a paving stone and tightens her grip on his elbow.

“I guess I do eat dinner today. Maybe you know a place, in another part of town.”

Steve isn’t keen to bring attention to himself but he still asks, “do you want me to go up instead?” He could use the exercise.

“Nah, just clothes. I can live without it.”

Steve brings her to a curry shop and tries not to get too distracted by the heated flush the spices bring to Darcy’s cheeks. 

“Sorry about all this, I’m not super great at boundaries. Tell me to leave when you get tired of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you uh… have a” his voice drops to a whisper “safehouse you can use for the night?”

“No, but I have enough cash for a motel, which is good enough. I have to get going tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve has to fight the urge to argue about her safety with her, ‘containing his hero complex’ as Natasha calls it.

He makes it almost the whole way to the shady motel she found on her phone before he pulls her to a stop. “Listen, I have a couch and I’d really feel much better if you didn’t…” he looks at the building with a fastidiousness he never had growing up.

“If I didn’t sleep in a place even the bedbugs probably rated 1-star?” she finishes for him. “The pictures didn’t look so bad but I’ll take you up on what promises to be a much nicer night.” A beat. “On the sofa,” she adds hurriedly. 

She makes them stop for cookies, because she’s a woman of her word.

Steve insists on giving her the bed, despite what he said earlier.

“What kind of boyfriend makes his girl sleep on the couch?” he jokes.

Darcy narrows her eyes at him, but silently goes to take a shower. 

Steve didn’t think it would be that easy.

It’s not.

“Your sofa needs re-stuffing.” 

Steve huffs a laugh as she elbows him. “Well if you weren’t fighting me for it, you’d never know.”

“I’m feisty.” She gets her legs between his back and the cushions and tries to push him off. Steve grabs the edge of the couch and relies on his strength to do the rest.

Darcy gives up on brute force and decides to try the element of surprise.

Her lips crash into his, her nails scraping through his beard. It takes him a second to kiss her back.

He can feel her knees digging into his spine with renewed vigor. He lets go of the couch to pull her properly into his lap. She resists but doesn’t actually stop kissing him until she’s close to running out of oxygen.

“Told you I was bad at boundaries,” she quips as she gasps for air, still cupping his cheek.

“I don’t think that’s an issue. I’ve got a box of cookies that says I’m your boyfriend the rest of the night.”

“Yeah?” she asks breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“Then as your girlfriend, I insist we both take the bed.”

“I don’t have condoms,” Steve admits as he’s licking a path down her neck.

“That’s probably for the best. I would do you til I couldn’t walk and given what I‘m up to tomorrow... Can I interest you in a blowjob instead?”

“You ever ask that question and get a ‘no’?”

Darcy tugs at his sweatpants. He catches her mischievous grin before it’s wrapped around his glans. He groans as pleasure seeps into his bones. He can feel her tongue dipping into his slit while her fingers stroke patterns over the taut skin of his balls.

He pushes lightly at her shoulders. “Let me-” His train of thought crashes as she slides further and sucks down as much of his shaft as she can and releases him.

She strips efficiently, barely giving him a second to appreciate it before she’s back on his cock. 

He repositions her legs above him, spreads her open and directly presses his tongue to her clit. She throws her head back to cry out, prompting him to do it again. Her legs wobble when he slips into her entrance. 

“Shit,” she moans into his thigh, grinding down on his chin. “Never understood the appeal of beards but _oooh_.”

Steve rasps a cheek over her quivering flesh and is rewarded with a shuddering mewl. Her head drops and she tries to fit him back in her mouth, whimpering weakly as his tongue traces through her sopping folds.

Her shoulder comes to rest on his abs, her hand encircles his shaft. She pumps twice, then reaches between them to coat her fingers with slick silver and returns them to his cock. Her fist glides over him easily now and it feels like they could spend forever like this.

They don’t, because Darcy starts bucking her hips and swearing into his skin.

It’s not long until Steve is flooding her mouth with his spend.

Steve’s phone rings sometime around dawn. 

“Hey Nat.”

Darcy tenses at the name. Steve will explain to her after that he’s not stepping out on anyone, but first he goes to the hallway.

“Steve, I need a favor. I’m stuck in Budapest and I’m supposed to be in Paris this afternoon to meet Darcy and pick up-”

“Did you just say Darcy?” Steve interrupts.

“Yeah, she used to be Foster’s intern, I didn’t think you’d met, but this is much easier if you know her. She’s bringing me a thumb drive, so if you could hop the Channel for me, that’d be great. I’ll send you the cafe address-”

“I uh… ‘rescued’ a Darcy last night that might be the one you’re referring to.”

“Picture?”

Steve moves back into the bedroom.

Darcy stares and then smacks a hand to her forehead. “Oh fuck me. You’re... _that_ Steve. Good job on the beard, I totally didn’t recognize you and I spent eighth grade swooning over your face in my locker.”

Steve definitely hears laughter on the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> felt it'd been too long between smut. also, this isolation thing is super frustrating.
> 
> I know I missed April Fools day but guys, a fake girlfriend is also known as... a beard.


	16. Body - alexxa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide what supernatural trope to do, but sex sells so.... 
> 
> meals'n'feels!Steve x succubus!Darcy
> 
> As always, it's all a set-up for the one-liner. And exactly one (1) potshot at Twilight.

Darcy opens the door after the bell rings. The guy standing on their doormat presents his badge.

“Agent Rogers from the Supernatural-Human Intervention, Enforcement and Legislation Division.”

“Ah.” Darcy nods knowingly and then turns to yell, “Jane, the G-man’s here!” before gesturing him inside. 

She sits him at the mostly clean kitchen table and plonks a glass of water onto a coaster.

Jane shuffles in from her office, red pen still clenched in her teeth.

“You must be Dr. Foster. I’m Steve Rogers. Thank you very much for cooperating with this assessment. Given the recent… unpleasantness, we are taking a closer look at all supernatural activity involving high school students, especially those still considered minors, and this interview-”

“Yeah yeah, I saw that case and we’re not pretending to be 17. Given how little teachers make to begin with, honestly I think we’re doing the humies a favor-”

Darcy claps a hand over Jane’s mouth. “What she means to say is: how can we help you resolve this as quickly and painlessly as possible? Because we’re confident that, impersonating humans aside, our ‘activity’ is completely victimless.”

“Would you mind confirming your status and what your ‘activities’ entail?” 

“Well, we’re succubi, we feed off sex dreams,” Darcy grins flirtatiously at Agent Rogers. “Honestly, I don’t know if it’s because we’re like third generation or what, but it’s much easier when the dream is about us personally, hence the teacher gigs. Teenage boys have wet dreams about anything that moves, so you can’t even say we initiate it without going into slut-shaming territory. A dream is an invitation which means it’s consensual, and we make sure there’s no evidence or memories of anything out of the ordinary after. It’s not even a… ‘physical’ transaction. Completely harmless.”

“That’s SHIELD’s call to make.” 

Darcy has to give Agent Rogers points for keeping his gaze at eye level at all times, considering the shirt she’s in keeps her fed for weeks when she wears it. He leaves their house with the Puente Antiguo High School class schedule, Physics and Civics circled in red.

* * *

“Man, you must have been _really_ frustrated during that debate. I saw you struggling to keep your comments to yourself.” 

“I shielded my room,” Steve Rogers growls. It’s pretty sexy actually.

“You dreamed about me specifically. I told you that’s an invitation. I wasn’t going to be rude and refuse. I can leave if you want, but technically _you_ started this party.”

He doesn’t outright reject her, so Darcy pours a little more honey into her purr.

“Come on, anything and everything is yours if you want it. For research purposes.”

Steve turns her around so she’s bent over her desk and flips up her skirt. There is of course, nothing underneath except soft slick flesh. Since it’s a dream, Darcy isn’t surprised she doesn’t hear a zipper before she feels his cock sliding through the sloppy mess between her thighs. She _is_ surprised by something else.

“Holy shit, are you actually that big or do you just think you are?”

Steve pulls off his tie and pushes it into her mouth. It is quickly soaked through as she moans in time with each thrust. 

Her heels bounce as she meets each stroke with a little ass-grinding against his pelvis. The hard swell of his head runs roughshod over her clit and she spits out as much cloth as she can to pant, “You know it’s a dream, right? You don’t need to bother with foreplay.”

His big hands palm at her breasts and he leans down to breathe in her ear, “Are you always this chatty or is this not interesting enough for you?” He pinches one pink nipple and angles his hips to thrust lightly at her entrance.

“Whatever I am is up to you,” she manages to grit out. “And apparently you’d rather have me talking smack than worshipping at the altar of your dick.”

Steve drags a hand down to spread her legs and guide himself into her waiting heat. Darcy’s knees go weak and she’s pretty sure if she weren’t a demon she’d be thanking Jesus because she cums before Steve is even two inches in.

He holds her steady as his cock continues its gloriously slow onslaught of her pussy. She can sense him being smug behind her, but shame isn’t exactly a thing she has an abundance of. She turns her head to watch him watching her, eyes fogged with lust. “Steve, please,” she begs. 

He grabs her hips and pulls her down until he’s buried to the hilt in her pulsing heat. 

“Fuckmefuckmefuckme,” she urges. “I need you to cum in me, _please_.” 

He doesn’t. Not until she climaxes twice more on his cock. Maybe it’s just because he’s driving this dream, but she can feel the hot spray of cum coating her walls in exquisite detail, fulfilling more than just demonic demand with each new pulse of fluid.

“That was incredible.” Darcy is always generous with her encouragement because more people should know how to fuck properly. “Any chance you want to do me for real?”

Steve steps away. “I’m here for work.”

SHIELD probably gives all their agents dream training because Steve chooses to wake up, leaving Darcy satiated but just a touch unsatisfied.

* * *

Agent Rogers leaves New Mexico after three days and all Darcy gets out of it is a case number and a website to check. 

He dreams about her five times in the following six months. Darcy doesn’t hesitate. She tries to engage him by talking about baseball or Star Wars or hell even what kind of music he likes but it’s never long before he renders her completely incoherent.

“Hey, is all this just so I’m not off ‘preying’ on students?”

Steve stops what he’s doing and tries to withdraw his hand from her pussy. Darcy clamps down because she’s found that she doesn’t like not being connected to him.

“I expect your case will be approved with no changes to the status quo.” 

Darcy has a political science degree and enough experience dealing with educational boards to know a bullshit answer when she hears one. She rephrases the question anyway.

“Do you like me: yes or no?” God, she might be hanging out with teenagers too much.

“We’ve only met twice. All I know about you is that you’re a libertarian-”

“From a philosophical standpoint, I was completely against that Tea Party shit! I just don’t believe the government has any business being in my business.” Darcy realizes that Steve’s fingers have been exploring deeper while they were talking, so maybe she should rethink her stance on that.

“That you hate the prequels-”

“They were _so_ racist but also a disturbing portrayal of Nazism taking over a purportedly democratic society.”

“And you don’t know anything about baseball.”

“I saw the Dodgers background on your phone,” Darcy admits candidly.

Steve pulls his soaked fingers away and slides into her abruptly. “ _This_ has nothing to do with work.”

It doesn’t exactly answer her question, but she’ll take it.

* * *

Darcy opens the door after the bell rings. The guy standing on their doormat presents her with a bouquet of tulips.

“I was thinking we could watch a baseball game and I could explain it to you.”

“In your dreams.” She laughs giddily anyway.

Steve leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not planning to sleep tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't feel like writing for a while. Them isolation blues, but at least I had Kingdom Hearts and allll the internet to entertain me. 
> 
> I'm not dead, I promise. I don't want to go on the cart.


	17. ARTPOP - Lady Gaga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> onapedestal!Steve x smitten!Darcy
> 
> direct follow-up to chapter 1. Protest art is fun _and_ educational.  
> I decided the twist for 'stripper!fic' was to have them dancing between objectifying and romanticizing because healthy relationships.

Darcy finds random sketches around Steve’s apartment, like an Easter egg hunt because who knows what’s inside. Sometimes it’s a small sketch of a mug or an attempt to turn the tape dispenser into a spaceship. Lately she’s been finding bits of her own body. Certainly after seven months and sixteen days of living together (no one’s counting), he knows every inch of her but it’s a little weird to be dismembered and examined so thoroughly. 

First is an effort to capture a hand gripping a pen, with a triangular constellation of familiar freckles dented into the paper.

Then it’s the curve of a woman’s back, with a Pacman-looking dimple carefully shaded in. Since it’s not wearing a shirt, she’s just going to go ahead and assume that it’s hers.

Next is a full profile that seems more about mastering the draping of her sundress, but she likes that he made the effort to capture her curled hair as well.

The following few pages are dedicated to her trying to be all of Destiny's children in the kitchen while she was cooking breakfast. Honestly _Bootylicious_ started playing, so she can’t really be blamed for the impromptu dance party.

They’re squeezed in the shower together when Steve accidentally scrapes the loofah too hard against her bruised hip. Darcy hisses a little, prompting him to examine it. 

“That looked green last week, why’s it purple?”

“Gremlins?” She pokes the bruise and decides it’s about the same height as the kitchen counter. He’s better at tidying than she is, but the furniture still manages to sneak up on her. She giggles to herself. “My body is a temple, but like, the one in that old game show. Different shit every week.”

* * *

Darcy squints at the glossy page. “Oh that’s not just noodle bones, that’s a whole second set of ribs or something.” Ingres’ _Grande Odalisque_ remains sassy but doesn’t defend herself. “Two conditions.”

“Anything you want.”

“One, I need at least that many cushions.” She gives him a sly smile. “And two, if you’re going to draw me naked, then you have to draw me naked.”

It takes Steve a cool minute to figure it out. “You’ve got to stop objectifying me like this,” he murmurs into her hair before dropping a kiss on her forehead. “I’m not just a slab of meat.”

She runs her fingers over his abs and counts exactly how many slabs that is.

What Darcy doesn’t count on is how much it hurts her neck to hold her pose. Also, between the cramping and the giant sketchbook, Darcy has basically wasted a naughty-favor on ankles and glimpses of shoulder. 

“Sooo many neck massages later,” she assures herself.

Once he’s done with her top half, Steve comes to the other side of the table they’re using to adjust her legs. She blows warm air in the general direction of his groin, but unfortunately he’s too in the zone or her lungs are weak sauce. Either way he just moves her knee and then goes back to the couch and his sketchbook. 

“Are you sleeping?”

“No.” She really wasn’t, she just closed her eyes at some point and didn’t open them. It was more conducive to fleshing out her artist-model sex scenario. Still undecided whether to turn it into fanfiction (obviously Draco would be the artistically-inclined noble and Harry the desperate, almost-starving student) or keep it for herself.

“Just resting your eyelids?”

“Thinking deep thoughts.” Like whether bodily fluids would ruin a paintbrush. If it’s Draco’s then he’d smarmily buy a new set whenever he wanted, but Steve wouldn’t waste supplies like that. Which is good, fiscal responsibility is sexy since they’re splitting rent.

His fingers pushing her hair behind her ear makes her look up. Then she looks down and indulges herself in another puff. This time his cock notices and twitches in response.

Steve laughs, 30% pampering, 30% lust and 40% joy. God he’s cute. “Deep thoughts, huh?”

Darcy adds a spoonful of sultry to her voice. “Super deep.”

They stare at each other for a minute before he announces hopefully, “I’m done sketching, well... except for the gorilla face-”

“Wait, _gorilla_ face?”

He must realize things are going in the opposite direction they should, but Steve actually seems pleased to explain. “The Guerilla Girls are a feminist group,” he pauses tantalizingly, “that fight sexism and racism in the art world. Their most iconic poster is this painting,” he runs his palm down the side of her torso, “under the words ‘Do women have to be naked to get into the Met Museum?’ along with the actual stats for female artists versus female nudes. The gorilla masks are kind of their signature and the juxtaposition of the beast, usually associated with masculinity, and the _Odalisque,_ a concubine-”

Darcy reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck. “Okay okay you big nerd, I’m sold on the gorilla, you know it’s hot when you talk feminism to me.” Actually, ‘juxtaposition’ doesn’t have the same effect on her libido that ‘chiaroscuro’ does, the biggest turn-on for her is _him_. Steve who likes protest art and has twenty of the same white socks in his drawer and non-ironically laughs every time she uses ‘that’s what she said’ in conversation.

He reaches down and scoops her up. “Was that thought deep enough for you?”

“No, but this is.” She slides her hand along his shaft and giggles when she realizes he said it for this exact reason. “I’m a bad influence on you.”

“It’s cute that you think that.”

* * *

Steve is putting the Halloween decorations away on the high shelves. Darcy is watching. He notices when he turns for the next box and that loving smile appears on his lips. “I thought we talked about the objectification; I need you to respect me as a person.”

“This is me respecting you as a really hot person. Next time you go on a rant about hype killing franchises, I will respect you as an impassioned fan dork with a huge chip on your shoulder.” 

He’s warming her side of the bed while she brushes her teeth. Because he’s amazing.

When her teeth are clean and her retainer is in, she burrows into her spot and drops her head on his chest. 

“I do respect you, you know. You’re talented and smart and surprisingly fun for someone who can spend six hours in the museum, which by the way, respecting the hell out of your stamina. In all things. One thing in particular though. Of course.” Because Darcy is incapable of saying something nice to her awesome boyfriend without cheapening it with snark.

“Of course.” Steve squeezes her gently, like he gets that she was sincerely appreciating him, which should be expected at this point because Steve _is_ practically perfect in every way.

They lay in comfortable silence, fingers intertwined. Stroking the bumps of his callouses reminds her, “I bought you more socks and re-upped our supply of Vick’s. Also got the good cocoa since you don’t do fall spices.”

“You are the literal best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It pains me to admit Legends of the Hidden Temple is in fact an _old_ gameshow, but that is the timeline I wrote and I just have to own it. My 90s is showing again.
> 
> Despite being older than I imagine myself to be, I'm still a master at dropping 'TWSS' and my boyfriend appreciates it very much. Yes.


	18. Now That I Found You - Carly Rae Jepsen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> normal!Steve x catlady!Darcy
> 
> Remixing Goose and Catherine into a cat-meet-cute.  
> Hugely inspired by the music video for this song.

“Katy-cat, whatcha lookin’ at?”

Catherine flicks an ear in Darcy’s direction, but maintains her surveillance of the fire escape. Darcy lifts the curtain to find an orange cat looking intently at Catherine. The noise as she pulls the curtains back completely catches the striped interloper’s attention and it turns its gaze to her.

The little metal circle on its neck proclaims GOOSE.

“I’d’ve gone with Tiger,” she remarks to herself, picking Catherine up and shutting her in the bedroom.

Goose is still there when Darcy comes back with a little bowl of wet food so she opens the window and clicks her tongue.

Goose has no qualms about hopping in and helping himself. “Easiest petflix and chill ever.” 

* * *

She tapes the paper sign by the mailboxes and skips back into the elevator before the doors close. 

She doesn’t expect a panicked “wait!”, and certainly not 200 pounds of blonde and leather jacket to come crashing into her space. 

The stranger is wheezing to catch his breath, but as he straightens, Darcy realizes it’s the very attractive guy she’s seen around the building before. He always takes the stairs though, so she would never have known how crowded he makes the elevator feel.

“You having a medical emergency?” 

He shakes his head but still hasn’t found the energy for words.

“You looking for Goose?”

Hurried nodding.

Darcy decides she can probably trust him, she’s seen him help Mrs. Cheng and Mr. Baker with their groceries in the rain. She pushes the button for her floor and tries to be less hyper-aware of him panting next to her.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t get out much if you’re this worried.”

“She. Is my boss’s cat. Mine for the next two weeks. She spent the first two days hiding in her cave and then I was making lunch... I only left the window open a crack I swear.”

“Oh, that’s more than enough. Cats are liquid,” she informs him solemnly. “Lucky for you Catherine is very interesting. She has 3000 followers on instagram.”

Darcy opens her front door guardedly, ready for knee-height jailbreaks. Unnecessary as it turns out, as Goose has taken over Catherine’s third-favorite cushion. 

“Have you been playing with her?”

“Trying, she doesn’t seem to like me.”

As they approach, Goose leaps up and scrambles under the couch. “Man, what’s the opposite of a pussy magnet?”

“She was okay with me before, I guess not being at home is freaking her out.”

Darcy lays on the carpet to peer into the darkness. “Probably. Boss in like Staten Island or something?”

“No, his place… is not currently livable.”

“Aw, poor baby.” Goose doesn’t seem ready to use her claws on Darcy’s hand, but she’s definitely not interested in leaving. “Okay, uh…?”

“Steve.”

“I’m Darcy. Okay, Steve, here’s the plan. You go and get Goose her bed or blanket or whatever you have, and then we’ll try to lure her out. Meantime, the evil overlady is probably pissed at me.”

She rolls to her knees and shuffles to her bedroom.

“Look, I’m already in groveling position. You better not have peed in my closet again.”

When Steve comes back with the soft cave, a black blanket and his sandwich, Darcy is soothing the round grey blob in her arms. There’s a bowl with wet food on the floor near the couch.

“I know, I know, I’m a terrible servant, I gave away your food and your cushion _and_ put you in prison. Catherine, you want to say hi to Steve? I bet he gives good pets.”

Darcy is still chattering as he reaches up tentatively to stroke her head. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I am in fact a crazy cat lady, I even have the boardgame to prove it.”

Catherine starts a purr that rivals his motorcycle.

The humans glance at the sofa like maybe Goose will get jealous, but there isn’t so much as a hair of orange.

“We could move the couch, but I suspect stressing her is not gonna help. How long you think she’ll hold out?”

“If she’s anything like my boss, she’d be okay down there for a week.”

“Well in that case, you want something to drink?”

-

They’re on their second beers and third round of _Patchwork_ when Darcy freezes. “Ooh, we have visual contact!”

Goose heads to the bowl. When Steve tries to turn and look, she darts back.

Darcy gives him a pitying smile. “You’re a dog person, aren’t you?”

“If I wasn’t before, I think I am now.” His phone buzzes. It’s Natasha, so he steps into the hallway.

“Hi.”

“Goose is gone.”

“No, Goose is not in my apartment. We’re at a neighbour’s. Also, I told you to stop breaking in.”

“Not my fault you make it so easy. Do you need my expert cat-wrangling assistance?”

“Uh… maybe later.”

Nat clearly senses something. “Rogers… is this neighbor a _girl_?”

He doesn’t think he pauses that long but she pounces anyway. “Is she cute? Where are you? Don’t make me turn on your GPS.”

“That sounds like a serious abuse of FBI resources, Agent Romanoff.”

“Noope, someone lost a high-value target and I’m doing everything in my power to recover her.”

“Psst!”

Steve turns and finds Darcy in the doorway, hugging a black lump.

“Bye, Nat. Get out of my house.” He closes his phone and tucks it back in his pocket. “It’s because I was gone, wasn’t it?”

Darcy bobbles her head noncommittally. “I think she’s fucking with you specifically.” She pets the lump as much as she can while holding the blanket closed.

He considers all the people he works with and concedes this is a very real possibility.

They bring Goose and her things back to his apartment. The only problem is the redhead leaning on the wall, blowing green bubbles.

He can read it in her eyebrows. _I got out of your house._

“Brought those casefiles you wanted. And some contraband for the fuzzy POW.” 

The blanket struggles when it hears her voice. Steve herds Darcy in quickly, shooting Nat a scowl that never works. He double checks that the window is fully closed before giving the all-clear.

“Release the kraken!” Darcy cheers as she unrolls Goose. Goose gives all three of them a look of disgust and runs into the bathroom.

Natasha leaves after five knowing grins, two snide comments and a mini-interrogation pretending to be friendly conversation.

“That was a fun little adventure. Let me know if you need help again.”

Darcy turns to leave but is stopped a second time today by his sudden “wait!”.

Steve nervously holds up his phone and sheepishly explains, “that’d be easier if I had your number.”

“My pleasure.” She takes his phone, still warm from his pocket, and creates a new contact. She puts ‘catlady’ in for her last name and texts herself. “Um… you should call me even if you don’t need help.” 

They stare and smile shyly at each other until retching noises from the bathroom break the spell.


	19. Mermaid - Skott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> endgame!Steve x soulspirit!Darcy
> 
> follow-up to Ch12 and also my End Game fix-it  
> this was the de-serumed Steve trope first time around, but I needed it to fill the un-Captain-America thing Steve did in End Game

“Steven, Son of Sarah.”

“You…”

The Red Skull observes Steve readying to fight, and laughs hollowly. “It is my curse to know all who journey here and to guide them. No more than that.” He drifts forward indifferently. 

Steve follows him to the Temple.

He looks down the abyss and his heart breaks all over again as he thinks of Natasha.

He throws the gleaming gem as far as he can.

* * *

A cool hand, slightly chapped, smooths the lines on his forehead. His eyes sting as he recalls the thin mattress he once shared with his mother.

But when he opens them, he’s ankle deep in an endless pool of water, and the white-haired woman in front of him is not Sarah Rogers.

“Peggy! You’re-”

“Choose your next words  _ very _ carefully.”

Steve chokes down a sobbing laugh. “I was kind of hoping you’d be wearing the red dress.”

“I’m sure you were,” she replies tartly before she softens. “I know what you were really hoping for, Steve. But a sacrifice is a choice. She can’t return. Just like you. You made a sacrifice, a lot of them since then, more than a lot I know; but the universe is not meant to be fair, only balanced.”

Steve looks at his feet. “So I really can’t change the past?”

“You should listen more when the scientists talk. You’d be creating a new reality, a different me. And  _ her _ Steve will still be in the ocean. I can’t stop you, but I can remind you. I’ve already lived a life, a good one, I wish to heaven you could have been there for it but that’s not our fate.”

Steve feels tears tracking down his cheek. “Seventy years alone in the ice and my biggest regret is still missing our dance.”

“Always so dramatic. Well, I don’t disagree.”

She wears red. The record player in her living room plays something slow, the one her children loved to pieces. It’s not the Stork Club, but an orange dream eternity on an alien planet. It’s everything he thought it would be.

“One thing before we say goodbye.”

Peggy places her hand on his chest, where Erskine did years ago. “You weren’t alone in the ice. That was  _ my  _ biggest regret, so tell her I’ll always be grateful.”

She pushes.

-

As he descends, echoes well up in his memory.

“Stark found the Cube. He’s still looking for you though. He’s a good friend. Good enough to reserve you one of those flying cars, maybe? You gotta give me a ride if he does.”

“Bucky is having a really bad time. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in two shakes.”

“There’s these novels about a spy, James Bond, who I would swear was based on your friend… girlfriend? Peggy. They make movies about him now. You  _ have  _ to watch them when you get out of here.”

“Stark and his wife are going to have a baby. They don’t know yet, but I know you won’t tell. Both of you have such heavy fate, I hope you find people to share it with you.”

“Howard is...um. Bucky, he- I can’t. I’m sorry. Please never find out.”

“My new boss Jane is a bit of a workaholic and it’s too much effort to be in two places at once. Not like you’ll miss me. You’ll be out of here soon anyway. Won’t be easy I imagine, but that’s what you get for having a soul strong enough to endure. If it were up to me, I’d let you rest. Not like this though. Somewhere with sun.”

* * *

Steve sits up with a splash and hears a groan next to him. The figure has brown hair not red, long without curls. “Who are you?”

“I’m…” She peers into the water, seeking her reflection. “Huh. I’m Darcy Lewis. Didn’t expect that.”

The name triggers a faint familiarity. “Why wouldn’t you expect that?”

“Darcy Lewis disintegrated, along with half of all sapient life. Me, myself and I am a bit difficult to explain, but I remember being a few things until Thanos destroyed the Stones.” Panic suddenly takes over her face. “I can’t… feel it. We’re on Vormir right? Do you have it, the Soul Stone, is that why I can’t feel it?”

“I just returned the Stone that Clint and… Natasha took.” He looks at the case. “Maybe when I put them all back?”

“We’ll go with that. Sounds right, right?”

“Will you be okay here?”

“I’ll be fine. At least until 2018 again.” Her brow furrows in concentration. “Heimdall. Heimdall? Helloooo? Maybe you should go Steve, this might be one of those ‘secrets of the universe’ things I can’t do with witnesses.”

Steve has Nat’s- enough spare particles to stop by 2023 and get her a rescue party, but he’s impatient to finish the mission. Because he knows at the end of it he’ll have to make a choice he hasn’t quite given up on but no matter what, he’ll finally get to rest.

_ Maybe somewhere with sun. _

* * *

Steve is covering up his uniform when he hears it.

“Um… Steve? What did you just do?”

He whirls around to see Darcy, wearing a very confused expression.

“ _ I _ went to 1970. I’m not sure what you did.”

Darcy purses her lips and looks over at Camp Lehigh. “Oh boy. Heimdall! Heimdallheimdallheimdallheimdall. I know you’re watching Midgard right now. Heimy. Heimdork. Dallface. Okay you asked for it. How many warriors does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Zero, you just have to get their dicks out of the hole. Do you know why Sleipnir has so many legs? He needs them to haul around Odin’s ego. I can do this all day.”

Steve watches in amused bewilderment as Darcy hisses horrible things with determined vigor.

“What’s a viking’s favorite subject? Frigga-nometry. Ninjas do it in the dark. Pirates do it for the booty. Berserkers do it bear back. The bears do it very unwillingly. Frost giants do it and still have blue balls. Why did the bilgesnipe cross the road?”

“Are you quite finished?”

Steve whirls again to see a tall armored figure open his arms. Darcy runs into his embrace. “Brother!”

“Captain, the Tesseract.” Heimdall’s eyes glow and he points. “Better take that entrance.”

-

“You- Heior is still keeping vigil. This is... probably your last.”

To stay in the treeline, out of sight from the guard posts, Steve has to be within eavesdropping-distance despite his best intentions.

“Okay well, why do you think I ended up _here_?”

“How much of yourself have you poured into him these years? If the Stone was destroyed in your time, perhaps he has become your anchor in its place.”

“I can’t fulfill my purpose as  _ Darcy _ . Not anymore. Or I guess… not yet?”

“I think the universe is telling Darcy that you already have.”

She laughs wetly. “Can the universe throw in a beach house with my retirement package?”

Steve emerges after Heimdall disappears. Darcy is dispiritedly breaking a stick into smaller and smaller pieces.

“Sorry Steve, looks like you’re stuck with me.”

“Sounds like it’s not the first time. What do you want to do?”

“No idea. My brother just told me to get a life.”

“Tony used to say the same thing all the time.”

“I could really go for a milkshake.” “How about a movie?”

They look at each other and smile, it’s a little easier than before.

“Both?” she asks.

“Both sounds good. So uh… why did the bilgesnipe cross the road?”

“Because it saw what happened to the bear.”


	20. Everything - Michael Buble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5timesshemakes!Stevesmile + 1timehemakes!Darcycry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feeling nostalgic for a previous life on another ship in another fandom, when this format was my jam, bread and butter.  
> also for the time when I could wear snarky t-shirts and go outside  
> fill your punny mugs with holiday spirit
> 
> self reference = self love

+1

The smugness of hacking SHIELD through their own Skynet cameras wears off very quickly. All that’s left is horror as they keep watching and the bodies and bricks keep falling. Darcy sifts through the myriad of feeds SHIELD is monitoring and stops on a squad of cop cars. The boys in blue seem to have organized themselves and are hustling people out of the streets. She decides to stay here instead of endlessly searching for Jane’s big ol’ lightning bug and freaking out when she can’t catch him. Jane doesn’t say a word of protest. 

A figure flies out of a building and lands, hard, on the roof of a car. Both of them cheer a little when he pushes himself up and slides to the ground, roughly but at least he’s on his feet. The camera catches his face, Darcy is punched in the gut by the look of defeat on it.

Her vision swims and then is filled with plaid. Jane scrubs the corner of her eyes, knocking her glasses askew. Even though it kind of hurts, Darcy doesn’t push her away.

1.

“Who’s your favorite author? And please don’t say Steinbeck.”

“What’s wrong with Steinbeck?”

“Nothing, I mean it’d be _fine_ , but it wouldn’t be fun.” Darcy waves her ‘SUPER SERUM’ coffee cup in lieu of a real explanation.

Steve waits, he figured out early into their acquaintance that Darcy can’t let a silence speak for itself.

“It’s just, so much of his stuff is required reading, and sure, it’s nice how he represents the common man and all, good for him, but it’s such a _Captain America_ thing. I need your most favorite author to like, not be based on his contributions to the country, either written or war effort-wise. Bonus points if it’s actually a woman. Or you know… porn.”

“I didn’t get my hands on enough books to have a favorite author, but _The Maltese Falcon_. Great book. Really great movie.”

“Is that the Humphrey Bogart one?” she asks with interest. “Haven’t seen it. You want to commandeer the TV? I’ll make the popcorn.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Steve smiles in anticipation.

“I did hear you were the man for those.”

2.

Steve doesn’t mean to stare. He knows it’s a bit ungentlemanly, but Darcy’s somewhat faded t-shirt sports a rakish ursine in uniform with the words ‘Bucky Bearnes’ next to him and Steve has. So. Many. Questions.

Jane also has bears on her shirt, but they are fat and colorful and unfamiliar. Clint isn’t wearing any, but he seems very invested in bears as well given the intensity of their discussion.

“Nope, my kids are purists. Winnie the Pooh all the way. Character first, _then_ merchandise.”

“Technically Winnie the Pooh was inspired by someone else’s merchandise. Care Bears were toys before they got a TV show,” Jane argues.

“ _Technically_ , Captain Abearica-”

“No, you don’t get to talk, that show was a horrible cash grab meant to extend the copyright-”

Darcy notices Steve and hops off her barstool. “Fine, I’m going to go hang out with the cool kids.”

Clint sends her away with a parting shot. “Let me know when you find any.”

“Hi Steve.”

“Hi Darcy. Uh…”

“You look un _bear_ ably confused.” Darcy giggles for a minute before composing herself. “You ever have a teddy bear? I don’t know what it is, but kids love bears; luckily the fictional ones don’t look much like the ones that will rip your head off. Yogi Bear, Paddington Bear, Care Bears, Gummi Bears, Winnie the Pooh... in the 90s we had Captain Abearica. And his sidekick. Bucky Bearnes.” She points to her chest. “They fought an organization of evil octopuses. If I watched it now, I would probably cry til I passed out because of how stupid it is, but when I was younger, it was the _greatest_ thing ever, and I’m sorry Steve, but Bucky was the best part of it.”

The bear has a mischievous tilt to his eyes so Steve can’t help but smile and agree. “That sounds about right, actually.”

3.

“You want to be sad alone, or do you want to be sad next to someone?”

Darcy puts her ‘for fox sake’ mug in front of him. He can smell chocolate.

“Who says I’m sad?” Steve doesn’t try very hard to be convincing though.

She carefully sips from her Catbus cup. “I’m going to tell you something, maybe you heard about it already. Hopefully it will make you feel better if you didn’t know. When you… disappeared into the ocean, there wasn’t a body to bury. The military had the full service and a memorial built in DC, but the Brooklyn boys who came back from the war chose to remember you with your parents. I gotta say, Brooklynites are kind of freakishly territorial. It became a big thing after they talked about it in the documentary. People will leave flowers or clean up the graves just to, you know, _do_ something for Captain America. I did it when I was visiting with my cousin. It was like fifth? grade, so we made red, white and blue friendship bracelets to tie on the flowers and we swept leaves. Anyway, that’s how I and a million other people know that Sarah Rogers, beloved wife and mother, died on this day in 1936. So you don’t have to pretend not to be sad.” 

Steve mulls over this while she fidgets with the edge of her sleeve. “I did visit them when I got back. There were some roses, I thought it was just people being nice.”

“Well, that is in fact correct.” Darcy pushes the hot chocolate closer.

Steve is still sad, but his lip curls a few degrees upward as he fishes a marshmallow out of the cup.

4.

“Who let you wear that thing in here?”

Tony Stark looks upon the gloriousness of Darcy's lobster onesie in abject horror.

“It’s Halloween, and I’m completely work-appropriate.” She sticks one hand into her claw and pinches it a few times at them.

“That’s quite the fashion statement,” Steve remarks neutrally, since both Tony and Darcy are looking at him to take a side and Jane is still nose deep in a binder. The ghost antennae on her headband bob cheerfully when she turns a page.

“Fashion is all about eventually becoming naked, but not for the right reasons in this case.”

Darcy narrows her eyes at Tony. “I heard they have pre-filled out harassment paperwork just for you.”

Tony narrows his eyes back but chooses a strategic retreat anyway. Steve pauses to take a couple pieces of candy out of the pumpkin.

“Doesn’t red mean the lobster’s cooked?”

“Yup.” Darcy contemplates her claw. “That would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

She fights not to laugh while she delivers the punchline. “My shellfish steam issues.” She positively cackles, making Jane whip her head around in surprise which in turn causes one of the flailing ghosts to conk her in the head.

“Ouch!”

Darcy doesn’t miss a beat. “Aw, did you get a boo-boo?”

Steve hides his grin in his hand as Jane hisses “I hate you.”

5.

Steve is sitting with Jane (sporting sequin-covered snowflakes this time), Pepper (who chose to abstain), Natasha (who seems quite pleased with her reindeer antlers) and Clint (wearing an elf hat with attached pointy ears). He is having a nice conversation with them, really, but his eyes keep drifting over to the splash of green helping Bruce perfect the eggnog.

Natasha, who might be psychic or just really nosy, drags him with her to sample the science.

Darcy’s Christmas tree headband twinkles with lights. Her t-shirt however, reads ‘kiss me, you’re Irish’ and Steve is 73% sure this is meant for him.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up there,” observes Natasha, accepting the ‘ho ho ho’s before bros’ mug from Bruce.

“Only green shirt that survived the move.” Darcy personally hands Steve a cup that says ‘keepin’ it FROSTY’ and he actually finds it funny enough to chuckle.

Natasha melts into the background, taking Bruce with her. Darcy is smiling brightly up at Steve and he’s desperate to say anything to keep the moment going.

“Y’know, my mother was Irish.” He mentally kicks himself.

“Very well aware.” Her smile doesn’t dim one iota.

Steve’s brain is coming up with radio static. 

Darcy reaches into her pocket and slides something over to him. 

He looks at the squashed sprig of mistletoe before meeting her expectant eyes. He leans down and fits his mouth against hers to find she tastes like cinnamon and sunshine.

“Good thing I had a back-up plan. Now I get to upgrade my New Year’s Resolution.”

Steve smiles in anticipation.


	21. Come and Get Your Love - Redbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> behindthescenes!Steve x betweenthesheets!Darcy
> 
> Because when I'm lazy I do [sequels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972916/chapters/9949730) instead of remixing tropes. Nothing overcums writer’s block like… well y’know.
> 
> I like to start my year off with a bang.

Steve spends most of the flight back thinking about his girl and the welcome home she’ll give him.

He’s not expecting to find her on their bed, hand in her panties, watching a knock-off Captain America press the rim of his plastic shield between some blonde’s legs. She wears a crown and a smile and nothing else.

Darcy catches sight of him and immediately pushes her laptop away.

“You’re back!” She reaches up to hug him but then realizes her hand is sticky. “Uh… I missed you.”

“I can see that.”

She hastily wipes her fingers off on her shirt. The taut cotton beautifully displays the fact that she’s not wearing a bra. On screen the camera zooms in for a close-up, the inked stars on the actress’s hips sway like comets above the shield. Steve has to admit the visual of his symbol cutting into her cleft is stunning and he gets impossibly hard thinking of Darcy in that position.

With her hand acceptably clean, she throws her arms around him for a kiss. His automatically circle her waist, but it isn’t long before his fingers find the welcoming warmth that has them both groaning with how tight she is. Her underwear is sopping wet and clings desperately to her when he pulls it off.

Darcy likes to drop kisses on whatever bits of him she can reach, as if she’s reassuring herself they’re all there in original condition. For some unknown reason, she always starts with his nose. He waits patiently for her to finish her little ritual, working his palm over her clit as he strokes deeper inside her.

She cums much sooner than he expects, then he remembers how he found her. He sneaks a glance at her computer, where Captain Shamerica is grinding his partner onto the bulge in his uniform. He’s somewhat relieved to see white bedsheets and no sign of a flag about to get defiled.

Darcy notices. “Does it weird you out?”

“I’m an actor in a very successful film franchise, Rule 34 was clearly explained in the handbook.”

She grins. “Oh good. I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” Her nails scratch at the front of his jeans. “Honestly, why are you so perfect?” 

“Yeah?” Steve gives her an answering smile and pushes a third finger into her. “How perfect am I?”

The noise she makes is between a gurgle and a whine. She scrabbles for his zipper impatiently, but now that he’s home, Steve is in no hurry. He sucks and licks at one cloth-covered nipple while his fingertips draw patterns on spongy flesh. She shudders with need, he can feel it rippling through her but refuses to quicken his pace. He devotes the next small eternity to making a matching wet patch on the other breast, skimming his lips over the stiff point until she can’t take any more.

“Don’t be a dick,” she gasps.

He slowly withdraws his hand and sits back so she can balance on the bed while he gets his pants off. Her walls release him unwillingly, leaving thick threads of silver on his skin.

Without him teasing, she finds the brainpower to start on his shirt buttons. 

He has to shuffle his jeans and boxers out from under her; they’re only at his knees when she drops into his lap, directly taking him to the hilt.

“We have all night, you know.” He had been planning to coax another orgasm from her with his tongue.

“I _missed_ you,” she insists, urgently rocking herself so her clit grinds against his pubic bone.

It takes some contorting to kick his clothes off and get the leverage he wants to thrust up into her. It’s not long before her wriggling becomes frantically uncoordinated and loudly breathless. She drops one hand behind her to cradle his taut sack and smear her slick fluid all over him. One of her preferred signals that she won’t last much longer.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers into his neck.

“I just- a little more…”

She delicately, but abruptly, sticks her tongue in his ear. It’s like a line straight to his cock. He manages to hold out long enough to press a thumb to her swollen clit and feel her clench down everywhere before he erupts in hot pulses deep inside her. Her pussy takes all of him greedily, he doesn’t think there’s anything prettier than this moment.

  
  


“I missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair as they wait for the water to warm up. “Even if you do have bad taste in porn.”

“Lies. The Cummander: Against All Bods is a _classic_. You missed the bit with Bucky. I mean. Libooty Legion.”

Steve pauses in his quest for a fresh towel. “What.”

“Don’t worry, thunder thighs, you’re the top. Also. If I hadn’t already seen James Barnes shirtless, I don’t know if you could convince me that wasn’t him.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he sighs indulgently.

Darcy gives him a mischievous smile before ducking under the shower head. 

* * *

He doesn’t know if he’s whipped or just more of a perv than he thought, but it only takes about 10% wheedle for Darcy to convince him to watch the porno from the beginning with her for kicks and giggles.

The girl in the crown gets introduced as ‘Queen Anne Cuntry’ which would be bad enough without her modified (sluttified) Ren Faire costume. But she also has the worst British accent Steve has ever heard and Darcy starts repeating her awful dialog in an even more exaggerated voice because it makes him laugh so much.

He determines it’s both when they go shopping and she pounces on some tentacle-looking phone tripod and asks if he wants to try making some movies. At home. Low budget. Wink wink.

“Yeah, I got the hint.” 

Steve ends up putting a second one in the basket. 

“Ooh Captain, you gonna throw your tea in my harbor?”

“Actually I was thinking a three-way with the Declaration of Independence.”

“Oh my god, I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real McCoy did a cover which is many people's first listen to this song before Guardians of the Galaxy. Still, I do like the original better.
> 
> [3-way with the Declaration of Independence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdA9_mtXYME) because I have many soft spots for SNL
> 
> If I stole anyone's planned/actual Captain America-based sexplay, I'm sorry, it was an accident. I just like making dirty puns.


End file.
